


Bone to Bone Without The Mold

by Jeanshard



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Usage, Angst, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Prejudice, Swearing, drug usage, dub con, mentions of child porn, non con, past references to paedophilia, possible trigger material
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanshard/pseuds/Jeanshard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin Emrys, the resident university man whore.</p><p>Where Arthur and his friend's are judgemental and have no right to be and Merlin is a walking mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing

Merlin Emrys was a total slut.

You could ask anyone on campus, and they had either slept with him or knew whatever person he had hooked up with the night before.

"Arthur, would you stop glowering at him!" Gwen squeaked from beside him.

"He'll probably love the thought of you checking him out." Morgana drawled. Arthur pulled his gaze away in an instant. He would not need to add to the gits ego.

“I heard he’s started on the professors now, too.” Leon mumbled through a sip of coffee.

“I thought he did that freshman night?” Morgana pounced on the announcement before it had fully left Leon’s mouth.

“I meant the married ones.” The table all clucked, none of them surprised the resident tart had splashed out, but wounded in honour of the offended spouses, still.

It was odd, their fascination with Merlin, and they would all admit it was odd. Their little group was just so vanilla, never having sex until they felt some kind of love, and most of them had only had sex with one person, three at the most. They weren’t dull, they snogged people and got quite far, but for them sex was something precious and tender, and they wouldn’t go splurging out.

Honestly, they didn’t even judge people who did. But Merlin was a special case.

“He’s looking!” The four of them averted their gazes quickly, feeling childish and silly at being caught staring.

“He’s leaving now.” Leon whispered, and the group let out a sigh of relief.

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure why he and his friends were so obsessed with the university slut. At first, it was because stories about him were to ridiculous to be true, but always were. Then it became like watching a fire work, fun to watch streak through the sky in a tornado of noise but best to watch explode, lighting the night in crude colour.

“I don’t get why Lance likes him.” Gwen said with a pout. “I mean, he’s not even very friendly. He has no boundaries at all. He isn’t even a little bit ashamed of how much he gets around.”

The table gave a unanimous grunt of approval.

“It’s just a bit, sad, isn’t it? To be whoring yourself out, letting anyone grab at you whenever. You know, he sets a really bad stereotype for everyone else.” Arthur explained. He’d been learning about rape shame from Morgana, and her theory was that people like Merlin gave ‘permission’ and excuses to rapists.

“Yeah, he probably thinks he’s mysterious and cool.” Leon agreed.

“I mean, be a slut if you want, but you shouldn’t go taking other people’s property. Those who are attached are off limits.” Morgana bent down, keeping her voice low as she continued. “It’s just a bit attention seeking, he’s so desperate.”

“He’s not even just a slut, though.” Arthur continued. “He’s on drugs half the time, he’s out of control and drags people down with him.” Arthur shook his head. “He’s going to totally lose it at some point, end up in a ditch somewhere.”

Leon looked up, and suddenly his eyes went really wide and he let out a nervous cough, and Arthur looked up to see an anxious, frowning Lancelot. Behind him was Merlin, wearing a small smirk as he looked at the table with a raised eye brow.

“Oh, uh, hello Lancelot!” Gwen began to chirp, before she set her gaze on Merlin. “Oh, umm, hi, Merlin… how are you?”

Merlin let out a small breath of laughter before he replied:

“Peachy.” In the most sarcastic tone Arthur had ever heard.

The whole group, bar Merlin, looked absolutely mortified. Even Morgana, and she rarely regretted anything she said.

“So… Um…” Leon trailed off, crimson taking over his face when Merlin turned to face him earnestly. “You two should sit with us!” The four shuffled over, making room for Merlin and Lancelot to join them. Despite his anger, Lance muttered a quick ‘thank you’ and quickly sat down.

“Sorry, I’m late for a very important date.” Merlin retorted, an amused smile on his face before he turned round to walk off. 

“Merlin, you promised that-” Lancelot began.

“Calm down, Lance, it’s an Alice in Wonderland quote. Although I really better get back down the rabbit hole…” Before he could, Lance grabbed hold of his wrist.

“You promised to try, Em.” Lance looked solemn, and Merlin gave him an indulgent smile, and perched down to the plastic bench.

“How are you finding your class so far, Merlin?” Arthur supplied. His father had taught him how to put on a façade to fool people into thinking you liked them. Judging from the look Merlin gave him the lessons were a waste of time.

Thankfully, though, it was obvious Merlin clearly hadn’t heard what they were saying earlier.

“Good, thanks. You?” Arthur gave a similar reply, and then the table was doused in an awkward silence again.

“What were you up to last night?” Gwen asked, before her eyes blew wide and everyone gave her a filthy look. Merlin, Arthur couldn’t help but notice, almost looked pitying.

“Merlin and I went to see a film, and then Merlin drank me under the table at the student bar.” Lance said, laughing a little. Gwen joined him, nervously and Lance gave her a reassuring grin. They’d been dancing around each other for weeks.

“The way you guys laugh is even in unison.” A voice that sounded nothing but happy said. Everyone’s head whipped around; surprised the comment had come from Merlin. Gwen looked a little worried. “Sorry, not to sound weird, but it’s a bit like the chorus to a song.” He gave a shrug. “It just fits.”

Lancelot and Gwen both looked at the table, both clearly pleased with the remark but both too shy to say anything to each other about it. Morgana looked for furious. For weeks she had been telling Gwen that she and Lance were in sync, and her friend had laughed and refused it. One comment from Merlin and she looked fit to burst with pride.

“Well I heard Merlin did a lot more after that.” Morgana snipped. Arthur knew Morgana was spiteful. She didn’t mean it; really, it was surface anger that she felt as though she could never control. She even managed to look shocked at herself.

Merlin looked incredulous for a moment, eyes meeting Morgana, pupils blown wide as if he had been told something scandalous.

“That’s so strange, I heard that too!” Merlin said, with a stage whisper. “Gee, I sure hope they didn’t pass second base. We’d have to tell a grown up.”

Lance laughed a little, but the happy look he had earlier had sharpened to anger when he looked at Morgana. Gwen seemed disappointed too.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Yes you did.” Merlin’s tone was a little clipped, but his face was still light. “You meant it, you’re not sorry for meaning it, you’re not sorry for saying it, in fact you’re not even all that sorry I heard. You’re just sorry you have to deal with the fall out.”

“Merlin, truly I am sorry.” Morgana looked really anxious. She was a strong woman, but when she knew she was in the wrong she became the little girl always desperate for friends.

“You shouldn’t be, though.” Merlin continued. “Because you have a right to think what you like, to say what you like and do what you like. Especially when you’re with your friends.” Merlin picked his cup from the table. 

“Really, sit down with us and we can all be friends!” Arthur was a little surprised he had blurted the words out. In all honesty, he was quite desperate for Merlin to take off. His eyes were too blue, Arthur felt like he was stranded between sky and sea. He couldn’t focus.

“If I call us friends, will you all excuse me to go home and sleep off my hangover?”

“Jesus Merlin, it’s a Wednesday lunch time, even you can’t be hung over right now!” Arthur hoped he didn’t sound as loud as his friends winces suggested.

“Yet here I stand.”

“Just sit with us; you deserve to give us a chance.” Arthur wasn’t sure why he was so insistent. He shouldn’t care if Merlin wanted to be his friend, in fact, it would be easier if he wasn’t. “We’re trying to be nice here.”

Merlin turned around, slowly, and Arthur kind of got stuck on how pale his skin was. It was gorgeous, like snow.

“That’s good of you. But why bother? I’m just going to end up in a ditch somewhere.” Arthur gulped. “But obviously, I’ll drag you all down first, because I’m a raging drugs addict, and clearly my mission in life is to taint all ye innocents.” Merlin leaned over the table a little, so his eyes met Arthur’s. Merlin smelt a little of beer, and oddly of oranges. “I am, after all, a walking stereotype. Not a person, a thing, something you get to judge but doesn’t get to judge you.”

For a few agonising seconds, the table was quite. Merlin gave a sharp nod then began to walk away again.

“Merlin, wait, they’re nice guys, if you let them explain…” Lance was scrambling to get his stuff, and Gwen seemed desperate to keep him there.

“There’s nothing to explain, though. Have a nice day, Lance, I'll see you at the flat." Merlin didn't act as though in retreat, although he was clearly eager to leave them behind.

“Merlin, wait for me to finish this drink and I’ll take you to-”

“I’m afraid I won’t be visiting Gaius today. I can’t wait for you, either, I have places to be.” Merlin walked off, turning round to give the table a sarcastic salute, and before Lance had time to stop him he’d walked up to a guy Arthur knew from football, Valiant, and began to whisper in his ear. 

From the grin on Valiant’s face, and the way he groped Merlin’s arse as they walked through the cafeteria doors, Merlin had managed to make at least one new friend today.

Lance looked absolutely gutted, but he sat back down in his seat and stirred his coffee.

“Damn it.” Lance whispered. As Arthur looked around the table, he could tell his friends were bursting with curiosity like he was. 

“So, how long have you two been friends?” Morgana chirped. Clearly, all signs of her earlier meekness had vanished with Merlin.

“Since I was nine and he was eight.”

“That’s more than eleven years!” Gwen replied, looking confused. “How have you been friends so long?”

Lance looked at Gwen, clearly disappointed in her reply. Lance was one of the most loyal people in the world, and if he and Merlin were really close then insults would not be taken lightly.

“He’s the best friend I have.” Lance could clearly tell the table were sceptical. After all, who didn’t hear of the hundreds of times Merlin ended up a mess, waiting for someone (and it was always Lance) to go and help him. It was like he was permanently stuck in the rebellious teenage stage. Gwen had once said Lance was far too young to already be a father, and they had all known what she meant.

“Really, though?” Arthur leant forward, making sure he was eye to eye with Lance. “Better than we are?”

When the group had gone skiing, they insisted to pay for Lance so he could go with them too. When Lance couldn't afford a night out, they paid his rounds. When he was worried about an exam, they managed to get the teacher to push it back. They used the resources so easily in their reach to help Lance, what did Merlin do?

“It’s not a competition Arthur, he’s just one of the best people I know and I love and value him more than a brother.”

“No need to get sappy. But really, he doesn’t strike me as one of the best-”

“Just stop it, alright?” Lance snapped. He stood up, and Arthur had never seen his friend like this. Lance was always calm, dependable, reasonable and fair. “You don’t know a thing about it, it’s fine for you guys to sit here and to condemn him but you don’t even know why he does the stuff he does. And you don’t care, as long as you get to feel superior you don’t care.”

With that, Lance stalked off. If he were a cartoon steam would be coming from his head. The people left at the table didn’t need to be cartoon’s to have crimson shamed faces.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana and Arthur put a plan into action

Lance was so disappointed when he got home he could barely feel his limbs move. He wasn’t asking for a lot, just for Merlin to get along with one other person Lance liked. Just Gwen. One person. He had been stupid to think Merlin might get along with the others, too, but he didn’t want to frighten Gwen off. Not that Merlin was very frightful, but still.

“Merlin, you didn’t even try!” Lance didn’t mean to yell as loud as he was, but he was so god damned angry and scared for his friend that he could barely control himself. One bloody week where Merlin didn’t come home off his head and covered in someone else’s sweat was not a big request. One bloody civilised conversation with some of Lance’s new friends was not either. Yet in one bloody day Merlin had failed on both accounts.

“Lance, Lance I did I really…” Merlin was falling over his words, and feet, crashing through the apartment like a blind horse. “They were, and then, shit!”

A crashing sound made Lance panic, but he heard Merlin mutter an apology to a lamp and sat down on the sofa again, frustrated beyond belief.

“I know you heard some shitty stuff Merlin, but you don’t even care about that stuff! You usually shake it off!”

“From, not, not friends Lance!” Merlin came teetering in again, face looking so broken and honest it reminded Lancelot of when they were kids. “Not, not people I’ll have to see!”

“But, all our friends say that stuff!”

“They’re, they’re not my friends. I’ve only got the you!” Merlin rambled when he was drunk, and possibly high, his usual eloquence shot to pieces. He sounded like an idiot, a mess, and Lance hated thinking that about him.

“Merlin, that’s because you don’t try!” Merlin was genuinely one of the funniest and kindest people Lance knew. Anyone could like him, but he made it such a test.

“I, I try and it goes weird and you yell when I come home with them or without them and I get sorry and say things I can’t do!” Merlin started trying to walk to Lance, but fell to the floor and lay there. Lance stayed where he was.

“All I asked was that you play nice with Gwen.”

“I did.” Merlin looked petulant. “I really did, and you heard what they said, and I still did, and I still did, and they looked at me like I was the bad one. I didn’t do the things I do to them!”

“Why couldn’t you just let them have it and move on, though?” Lance got up and helped Merlin to his feet.

Honestly, it wasn’t even Merlin he was mad at. It was his other friends, for being so judgmental when it wasn’t their place, and himself for never being able to really help Merlin. His friend, his best friend.

“I thought, I thought they might like me.” That sentence made Lance’s heart drop. Merlin never expected anyone to like him, past a fuck anyway, and Lance had tried hard to make him feel optimistic about his new friends. “You said they wouldn’t, wouldn’t care, Lance, you said! And they did!”

Because Lance could never fix people with words, like Merlin could, but he could fix the outside things. The physical things, the things he was learning in med school. And he was the only one Merlin would let touch him, so Lance figured he should do it now.

He looked into Merlin’s eyes, pleased to see that although the pupils were a little blurry and distorted; Merlin was evidentially not on drugs. Lance swept his hands along Merlin’s cheeks, opened his mouth and saw none of his teeth were broken, either, and the split lip from a few weeks ago had healed to a wisp white scar.

Lance wondered if he should check for more, but now Merlin was babbling incoherently, and he really just needed to go to bed.

After settling Merlin down, Lance returned to his own room and slammed his hands against his door.

Life was so un-fucking fair. There was no cruelty in Merlin, no nastiness and nothing worthy of revulsion. And everyone treated him like a fucking leper. They only saw a stupid little boy who danced his way through life to the expense of Lancelot. None of them saw the Merlin that made sure Lance actually sat down and revise, who gave his savings to help Lance pay for a ticket to visit his sick sister. The Merlin who never pointed out there were perfectly rich friends to help Lance because he knew how Lance hated to take from them. The Merlin who bought the train ticket and forced Lance to go by making it non refundable.

What Lance hated most of all was the fact he was not better than them. He knew why Merlin was so warped, why he wanted to be sky high and away from his own head and thoughts. He knew it, and still he got so mad at Merlin for being what he’d become.

As if Merlin hadn’t spent their entire friendship warning him.

***

Morgana was quite sick of looking over to see Gwen looking so glum. Since Lance had taken a bit of a leave of absence from the group after the Merlin debacle, Gwen had been quiet and solemn. At first, it was just annoying, Gwen hardly needed to be so desperate over a little puppy crush, but the longer it went on (over two weeks!) the more Morgana realized how much it mattered to her friend.

Morgana was many things, and scheming was one of them. It took no time at all for her to come up with a plan that should solve the main problems facing Gwen and Lance’s upcoming romance. The only thing more irritating than Gwen’s sad longing looks were her romantic longing looks, especially when Lance returned them. Morgana wished the world were as public with their feelings as she was.

The plan was simple, in theory. Morgana and Arthur (because Arthur was more persuasive than Leon) would go along and convince Merlin to act as if he liked them, so Lance could relax in their company without feeling guilty. Next, she would convince Arthur to throw another one of his parties (no sense in messing up her own flat), invite Lance and Merlin along (proving them all to be friends) then leave Lance and Gwen in a room somewhere to hug it out.

So, at five o’clock that night, when she knew Lance was at work (leaving Merlin alone in their flat) she and Arthur found themselves sat outside the door of the apartment.

The building was oddly nice, small and ratty, but clean with lots of windows. But she and Arthur had been waiting outside for fifteen minutes, and the lack of chairs or door man (even doorbell) were beginning to annoy her.

“Can you try and Jimmy the lock, Arthur?” Their start to making friends with Merlin was not going well, seeing as he was not even answering his door.

“I’m not 007, Morgana.” Arthur looked mildly incredulous, but Morgana was already sifting through her hair to find a bobby pin.

“It always works in films. Just slip it through the lock and jiggle it a little. The lock looks a little weak anyway.” She handed the clip over, and with a sigh Arthur got to work, remoulding the clip after each failed attempt. “Maybe we could just kick it in?”

“Maybe he’s not even in.”

“He’s probably sleeping off whatever, or whoever he did last night.” Morgana said, shuddering. The rate Merlin went at would be amusing were it not so tragic. It ruined his own life, but more importantly her friend, Lance’s.

“This is ridiculous. Maybe I should kick it in? We can always pay them back if I do anything too bad…” The two of them stood back, assessing the wooden door with an element of interest.

“Hello strange people attempting to break into my apartment.” Merlin purred. Morgana and Arthur jumped back, startled and humiliated by the sudden presence of Merlin. “You know, I find keys more effective.” He gave the two of them a slow wink, keys twirling along his elegant fingers as he stepped towards the door.

Merlin pulled out the mangled clip with a quiet chuckle, before placing it in Morgana’s hand. He opened the door, slipping through before turning back and tipping his chin to the shame faced duo outside.

“I’m assuming you had an important reason for the illegal act I caught you attempting. Are you coming in?” With a quick look of worry between the two of them, they scuttled through the wooden door.

Morgana had been in the flat a few times before, but never past the lounge or bathroom, and never with Merlin. The place was still nice, but where Lance bumbled round and anxiously apologised for the mess, Merlin melted and seemed to flourish a little.

“You can sit, you know.” Merlin sounded exasperated, grabbing three cans of coke from the fridge as Arthur and Morgana perched on the edge of the squashy sofa. Merlin slid their drinks along the table top, receiving a grateful nod from the two of them. 

“Goodness Merlin, do you keep the good stuff for your friends?” Arthur grumbled with a raised eyebrow.

Morgana snapped ‘Arthur!’ in a tone that could shrivel plants, but Merlin let out a huffy laugh and began to sip his can.

“If by good stuff you mean alcohol, Lance is secretly eighty years old and does not approve of it in the flat.” Merlin muttered. “Other than those stupidly expensive whiskies, but seeing as it’s only half five at night and no one is engaged or dying the occasion doesn’t seem to call for it.”

Morgana was oddly surprised; she had never heard so many words leave Merlin’s mouth at once. Then again, she hardly ever spoke to him all that often.

The room fell into a stilted silence, and Morgana felt herself squirm a little. Usually, she could carry a conversation along so easily, but Merlin’s earnest gaze was so unnerving and Morgana didn’t know what to say.

“Not to be rude, or anything, but what exactly brings you to this humble abode?” Merlin was sprawled out along a red beany chair, and Morgana was surprised at how pale his skin actually was. He didn’t look entirely real, like if you moved too quickly he’d disappear like a trick of the light.

Arthur too was looking at Merlin like he was something unearthly, and Morgana wondered why Merlin didn’t appear to be self-conscious at all with both of their studying glares.

“We’re worried about Lance.” Morgana explained. “He and our friend Gwen have been having a budding romance, and after the incident of meeting you, the two of them have been awkward around each other.” Morgana gave Merlin one of her signature stares, hoping to wrangle an apology out of him.

“That’s an odd way of putting it.” Merlin smiled.

“Odd way of putting what?” Morgana sat up, her glare to Merlin turning icier as she straightened her spine.

“That you’re sick of Lance and Gwen giving each other longing stares, and that he’s not spending time with you because you were rude to one of his oldest friends.” Merlin continued. Arthur spat out his drink out in shock and Morgana pursed her lips. “Don’t worry, I’m sick of all the puppy glances too. What’s the plan?”

“Why do you assume you’re part of the plan?” Arthur gloated.

Merlin, to his credit, probably didn’t look as irked as he felt.

“You were so eager for something to do with me you were trying to break into my flat. Which is illegal, by the way, so I guess it’s something super necessary.” Merlin replied, as if speaking to a child.

For the first time in Arthur and Morgana’s life, the two of them were both at a loss for things to say.

“Please tell me whatever the plan is before happy hour starts?” Merlin grumbled, throwing his can behind his back. It landed in the bin with a perfect arc.

“You’re deplorable. Where do they even have a happy hour on a Thursday?” Arthur retorted.

“The mission of the night is to find out.” Merlin supplied, with a small smile on his lips that did not reflect his eyes. “So, the plan would be?” Merlin stood up.

“You act nicey nice with us.” Arthur snapped, standing up to, obviously hating the idea of Merlin being above him. “Do whatever it takes for Lance to think we’re all friends so he’ll start going back to normal, because him lounging around here is obviously not good.” Merlin didn’t even wince. “Then you suck it up for one night and come to a party, we’ll leave Lance and Gwen to work it out and you can leave all together. By then, the two of them will be fine and you won’t need to hang around us anymore.”

“Arthur Pendragon, has anyone ever told you you’re a total prat?”

“Whatever, Merlin. Your opinion doesn’t really sway me, but your agreement does. Are you in or not?”

“Why are you making this sound so toxic? I’m sure we can all manage to stomach each other for- what?- an hour total? Surely I don’t repel you that much?”

Arthur, Morgana was pleased to see, looked shocked by Merlin’s reply. They both assumed Merlin would think of them as scum.

Merlin clearly understood what they were thinking, because he gave them both a nod and said:

“We’d better act soon, his eyes will shrivel up after one more longing glance.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So, how did you guys meet?” Arthur supplied. This was like being on an awkward date, without the hope of having a sweet relationship flower out of it. Well, not for him anyway.

“In, uh, primary school, some kids were bullying me and Merlin came charging into my defence.” Lance mumbled. If he found the new found friendship of Merlin to the group odd, it was covered by his delight. He didn’t know the whole thing was just a trick, and Arthur hoped it would stay like that. He and Gwen deserved to be happy, without Merlin messing it up.

“How sweet!” Morgana coo’d. Honestly, Arthur was surprised Merlin would be able to stick up for anyone, even as a grown man he was thin and lithe.

Lance looked a little guilty at the story for some reason, and Arthur was curious to know why.

“Why do you look so glum, Lance?” Arthur queried. He sort of hoped he was starting to regret meeting Merlin, although that may be too convenient.

“Just, well they ended up breaking his arm and a rib.” Lance whispered. The group let out a sharp hiss of sympathy pain. “I didn’t really do anything, either. I just ran home.”

Merlin popped up a minute later, back from the toilet with a little frown on his face.

“Surely you haven’t got to the serious Lance stage of drunk yet?” He grumbled. “I was hoping to at least get a little drunk before that.” Merlin sat down again, nudging Lance and giving him a searching look. 

“No, no, just thinking.”

“God forbid.” Merlin grunted. Lance grinned.

“So, Lance, how did you find class today?” Gwen asked tentatively. The two of them fell into a heated discussion of their medical class, something along the line of tape worms and fungus. It was a discussion best left to the two of them.

Arthur took the chance to have a proper look around the flat. Lance had obviously spruced it up in the knowledge his friends were coming and it looked nice. Small, but nice.

Due to the lack of space, Arthur naturally found his gaze laying on Merlin. The whole night, Merlin was perfectly polite, replying all questions he was asked and making the odd comment. But overall he seemed very detached, fingers twitching on the side of his glass, teeth worrying his lip and gaze distant.

Even when it was clear Merlin was not at his best, Arthur could clearly see why people fawned over him as often as they did. The man was gorgeous.

Before Arthur had time to school himself for that thought, a high pitched squeal pulled him back to earth.

“Get it, Leon get it!” Morgana was screeching. The light flickered, and Arthur looked up to see a moth flittering about clumsily in front of Morgana’s face. Gwen was sat back, clearly a little frightened by the (admittedly large) moth, but able to keep a lid on it because of Lance’s hold on her. Not that he seemed much happier with the winged thing.

Merlin opened his mouth, but before he said anything one of Leon’s hands batted the little thing to the floor. Leon began to raise his foot, obviously planning to end the things misery before Merlin dropped his glass over it.

“What are you doing?” Merlin snapped.

“I’m about to kill that, thing!” Leon replied, but dropped his foot to the floor. The little moth was buzzing round the jar, a large chunk of wing missing as it panicked in the glass prison.

“Why would you do that?” Merlin replied, anger on his face.

For a moment, Leon looked at Merlin like he was something stupid, before replying:

“Because it’s a moth. It’s causing a fuss. Look, it’s wings broke anyway, kinder to kill it.”

“The moth’s not causing a fuss, you are. I’m not planning on killing you.” Merlin’s gaze said otherwise. “And wings can be fixed.” Merlin stood up, sliding a magazine off the table and under the glass. 

With his other hand, Merlin pulled a shoe box out from under the table.

“Oh, it’s a butterfly.” Merlin whispered. “It’s ok buddy, don’t be so scared.” The little creature even seemed to calm down a little as Merlin spoke. “Morgana, if you’re scared, you can leave.”

Morgana huffed, taking the comment as an insult against her. She decided to stay sitting, waiting for the little bug to take off and give Merlin a fright, too.

Lance got up, muttering and giving the illusion this sort of occurrence was a regular one as he dimmed the lights a little.

Merlin raised the lid of the box, and Arthur peeked over to see it contained a packet full of wings.

“Why on earth do you have those?” Gwen squealed. 

“To fix their wings.”

“But you must have killed butterflies to get them.” Morgana relied, exasperated.

“No, he didn’t.” Lance replied. “Now shut up so he can get it done.” It was one of the only times Lance had ever been so snappy to them.

Arthur sat, mesmerised, watching Merlin. First, he took out a partially unwound paper clip, placing it over the butterfly’s body to hold it still and removed the glass. Then, he held the bug’s wings together, getting an idea of how much it had lost in Leon’ attack.

“Bugger.” He muttered. Next, he tentatively pulled out the packet of wings (which was creepy enough to make Leon turn away) and began searching for a match. Once he found it, he measured it along the still creatures own wings, before snipping the damaged part away with a set of scissors.

“You’ll hurt it!” Morgana protested.

“It’s just like a haircut.” Merlin explained. The butterfly didn’t panic or flinch to say otherwise.

Arthur sat, worried and amazed as Merlin dabbed a tiny streak of glue over the creature’s wing and new tip, before slotting them together so neatly the patterns revealed no fake wing. It was better than brand new. Merlin slid a slip of paper under the edge, releasing any glue hold on the butterfly.

After a few minutes of odd quietness, Merlin removed the paper clip and lifted the butterfly. He stretched out the blue-y wings, and they shimmered grey in the dim room. The butterfly’s legs began to scuttle, a little, so Merlin clasped it in his hands and lifted it into the window ledge.

As the butterfly soared off, not faltering even a little with it’s new wing, the group left out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. Merlin smiled to the distance, before heading to the sink to wash his hands.

“That was, amazing Merlin. I didn’t even know it was possible to do that.” Gwen said, voice laced with awe. Lance beamed brighter than Merlin.

“Oh, thanks, Gwen. But it wasn’t anything, really. Had a lot of practice.” Merlin said with a shrug.

“No, mate, credit where it’s due, I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” Leon said respectfully.

Arthur really didn’t get what the whole big deal was.

“Lot of effort seeing as it’ll die in a week anyway.” He muttered. Honestly, he really had meant to keep that in his head.

“Actually, on average those butterflies live for three months.” Merlin was on the floor again, shuffling his supplies together and into his shoe box. Arthur noticed it had a doodle of a butterfly with red crosses on its wings on the top. “But even if it only lived for three hours, it should be able to have those three hours.”

Arthur didn’t really have a response to that.

“So, Merlin, I didn’t know you were studying medicine, too.” Simpered Morgana.

“I’m not.” He replied.

“Not even veterinary?” Retorted Leon.

“No.” 

“What are you studying, anyway?” Gwen piped up. Arthur couldn’t help but feel a little bad for Merlin, who was being crowded from all sides.

“Maths.” Merlin replied. He didn’t sound sarcastic, but the group still looked at him for signs of something. 

It was inevitable one of them would say what most of them were thinking, Arthur decided, and he took the responsibility onto himself.

“You don’t seem the type.” Merlin turned up to look at him, and Arthur felt himself go a little cold. 

“What do you mean, type?” Merlin replied, voice smooth.

“To study maths.”

“So, do you mean intelligent?” Merlin continued. Leon winced, presumably that’s what he’d been thinking.

Arthur realized he needed to remedy the situation so explained:

“You, uh don’t need to be intelligent to study maths.” Which was definitely not what he meant to say. Leon even let out a little groan.

“It helps.” Merlin grunted, pushing the box away and dragging himself back onto the beanie chair.

“No, wait I didn’t mean it like that.” Arthur stammered. It was so hard to keep his cool, the way Merlin stared at him seemed all knowing. “I meant, the few maths people I know are very different, is all.” Arthur realized he was just digging himself into a deeper hole.

He expected Merlin to continue grilling him, make him squirm or whatever he enjoyed to do. Instead, Merlin shook his head a little and returned to his drink, allowing a more normal and less insulting conversation to begin.

***

Lance was a little drunk once his friends had left, more from the pleasantness of the evening than any alcohol.

He was so pleased his friends had come to like each other. For a while, he was beginning to distance himself from them, in honour of Merlin. But, as Merlin had been so noble and forgiving, it meant Lance could still hang around with them. He was lucky Merlin was such a good person.

Lance absentmindedly tidied little parts of the flat as he remembered the night. Merlin had sat with them almost the whole evening, until excusing himself during the game of ‘never ever have I ever,’ but Lance couldn’t fault him for that.

Merlin was most likely paranoid the group had only started the game to find out about his… uh… habits. Which Merlin would probably not like to reveal, through self-decency and the worry of embarrassing them. He was also probably scared they’d ask things about when he was younger, and Lance knew Merlin wasn’t ready to discuss it yet.

Merlin had even managed to stay entirely sober. He’d participated a little in the conversations and was entirely pleasant.

It was nice, too, for Lance to know other people cared about Merlin. He worried about being his only friend, but clearly he was over reacting.

When Lance went to sleep that night, he allowed himself to properly think of when he and Gwen could be a couple.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have marked explicit scenes with a -----

\----------------------------------------------------------------  
“Fuck yeah!” Cedric muttered. “Shit, shit yes!” He barely recognised his own voice, choked and hoarse. “Fu-uck!” Usually, he was never this vocal with the people he slept with, but usually the people he slept with were never as talented as Merlin.

Cedric could barely let out a little squeal of delight when he felt Merlin’s nose brush along his pubic hair.

“Knew those lips were made for cock sucking.” He whispered. Below him, Merlin gave a little nod of encouragement, so he continued. “Jesus, you must have had a lot of practice. Spend a lot of time on your knees? So desperate for a cock?” He felt Merlin smirk along the edges of his dick.

Cedric was lying down on his bed, t-shirt still on and jeans pooled around his ankles. Merlin was perched in front of him, fully dressed and out of his mind on whatever he’d taken from Cedric at the start of the night.

Honestly, Cedric knew he shouldn’t need too much help wheeling the tart back to his own flat, but it was good to be sure.

Merlin bobbed his head, a little sloppy, but that was probably due to the pills in his system. Even still, Cedric began to pull his head back and forth in earnest.

“Look at you, little cum guzzler.” He snarled. “So fucking desperate for this, aren’t you? So bloody eager for me, little cum dump.” Cedric felt the drool pooling at the corners of Merlin’s mouth, and began to thrust harder at hearing the other man gag. “Look at you, you’d do this until you couldn’t breath, 'til you were choked up with other guy’s spunk and desperate for air, but you’d still keep going.”

As he watched Merlin, coated in clear spit and pre cum, eyes bright and face something fierce and wanton, Cedric allowed himself to cum with a quiet yell.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
***

Gwen was spending an increasing amount of time at Lance’s flat.

They still hadn’t progressed much further in any other respect, but she could tell that this was a special stage. Lance very rarely felt comfortable having people over, especially late at night (most likely due to the embarrassment of Merlin) and Gwen knew he really trusted her by having her round so often.

It felt lovely, really. She knew that Lance was an incredibly lovely person, and if he liked you he liked you for life. Gwen hoped it meant he was beginning to like her in a way less like a friendship and more like a girlfriend.

But, she couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on the door to his room every time they sat in the lounge. Lance was a painfully handsome man, looking like something a sculptor would create then weep in the gloriousness of it. She couldn’t really help but wonder how long it would take for things to progress, until they, well…

She was human, she could barely help it.

“So, are you coming to Arthur’s on Friday?” She asked, making sure her eyes were wide and her lips pouting a bit.

“I’m not really sure, I’d like to but-”

“Why don’t you then?” Gwen leaned forward, hand resting on Lance’s knee as she looked at him. “Surely you’re not worried about Merlin? He’s been invited too.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” Lance said, laugh a little strained to be genuine.

“We wouldn’t let anything happen to him, Lance.” She said sweetly. “Anyway, he’s a grown up, you should let him take care of himself.”

Gwen truly worried for Lance. To be responsible for someone else, especially someone as self-destructive as Merlin was too exhausting to handle.

“That means a lot to me, Gwen.” The genuine tone of his voice made her feel a little guilty. She didn’t hate Merlin, didn’t wish him badly or hope he’d be sad. She just didn’t want to be near him, to have to watch him or associate with him. But she didn’t want Lance to be upset, and if tolerating Merlin every now and again was the price to pay for Lance it was a price she could hopefully live with.

So she smiled, making sure to look to the floor and leave Lance a view of her chest like Morgana taught her when they were kids, and said to him:

“I’m glad it makes you happy.”

The next thing she knew, she heard Merlin stumbling through the door and Lance flinched enough for her to remove her hand from his leg and look up.

“Lance, Gwen! How are you guys?” He smiled, walking with a limp to the fridge.

“Merlin, good to see you.” Gwen said, tentatively. He looked dishelleved, clothes rumpled, hair a mess, eyes wide and lips bruised and stained. There were scratch marks on his neck and face, like he’d been in close proximity with a wild animal. It turned Gwen’s stomach, a little.

“You’re a terrible liar Gwen.” Merlin smirked, rustling round in the fridge and turning his back to the two of them.

“Don’t be rude, Merlin.” Lance snapped. Gwen was oddly flattered at his reaction.

“Apologies to the lady.” Merlin replied, and Lance glowered a little.

“Don’t be rude, Merlin.”

“Sorry Gwen.” He didn’t sound petulant, or defeated, but Gwen knew he was.

“Merlin, for christs sake, what are you looking for?” Lance grumbled, watching Merlin trifle through the fridge.

“I hid something in here and I need it.” Lance was up in a few seconds.

“Fucking hell, what did you hide?” He dragged Merlin back, and Gwen noticed Merlin shove something in to his own back pocket as he turned around. Lance began to root through the fridge, then stopped, looking back at Gwen in a manner of mortification.

“Calm down, Lance.” Merlin whispered, as if noting his friend’s reaction to his behaviour for the first time.

“You’re meant to be away Merlin.” Gwen watches, oddly interested as Merlin steps back, hurt.

“You, you said that-” But Merlin stops himself from speaking, back getting straighter and fingers opening a drawer while Lance looks over to Gwen, apologetic.

Merlin notices, a thousand looks flashing on his face like snowflakes in a globe before wrenching his hand from the drawer with something else in it.

“Oh. My mistake, I guess. Don’t worry, Gaius’ nephew is downstairs, just getting some stuff and I’ll be off.” Merlin smiled, heading to the door. Gwen was surprised at how much smoother he walked, how little he slurred, how even the haze of drugs in his eyes seemed to dull.

She considered if what Leon thought was true, and that Merlin put a lot on for show.

“Merlin, I know you’re lying.” Lance sounds so resigned. “Just, go to your bed. Gwen and I will go somewhere else.” He turned round to face her. “Is that alright, Gwen?”

Gwen honestly couldn’t think of a better idea than getting Lance away, somewhere else where she didn’t have to deal with Merlin staring at her like he knew every bad thing she’d ever thought of.

But the door had already closed, Merlin firmly on the other side of it and out of Lance’s way.

Lance looked ready to run after him, and Gwen decided to put a plan into action.

“Maybe, maybe we should wait here for him, in case he comes back?” She was delighted to see Lance still. “He just needs time to, cool off?”

It didn’t take long for Gwen to convince Lance to sit with her again. It took a little longer to get his mind off Merlin and onto something lighter, but she had learnt the art of classy seduction from Morgana.

By the end of the night, she had secured a promise that Lance will be at the party, and he’s promised to spend the night with her.

She’s so pleased that when she goes to Lance’s bed alone that night (it’s too late to walk home and they’re too drunk to drive) while Lance sleeps on the couch, she doesn’t even consider how Merlin could mess it up.

***

Lance knew the red circles on today’s date, the red circles that marked the days Merlin needed to see his physchaitrist, Gaius, were obvious enough for Merlin to see and remember. He knew Merlin deliberately ignored them.

He knew Merlin thought Lance would be away, and planned to hide out in his room so Lance would know.

He knew he was a little harsh with Merlin.

He also knew that what Gwen said was right. It was too much, for Lance to do all this. To be the glue holding the mosaic of Merlin together. He had his own life to control.

But he owed Merlin so much. Lance couldn’t leave him to himself, or pawn him off on another friend. An asylum was far too extreme, and he didn’t want rid of Merlin, or to hate him, or to miss him.

He just wanted Merlin to take care of himself. Sometimes.

And Lance didn’t want to feel so selfish for wanting that.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin used to always write. He’d write poems, stories, plays, anything. And he would do it for hours, hunched over his latest design and empty but for the thoughts he needed to mould the stories.

It was good, too. Merlin didn’t like the thoughts in his head, they swirled around and thrashed against him until he felt sick. He would try to tell people, to explain that he was full of monsters and that he was dirty, but they never reacted right. They looked at him in shock, in sympathy, in anger or with hunger. They looked at him, sometimes they would try to help but they never said the right things. There was nothing to say, but to agree, really.

But when he put the things on paper, with different names and dates, or in a secret code only he could read, the words were there, real, and only he got to react to them.

He even kept a little book, filled with all the rotten words inside him that was a poison he had to let breathe out. He filled the book, with memories and feelings, with darkness and with creatures, until he decided he could watch the monsters live in the book and die in himself.

But then someone found the book. Someone found the words and pictures that made up the worst and most hideous parts of Merlin, the bits that stared at people, the bits that liked to be hurt and the bits that liked to hurt. They found the book; they found the filthiest parts of Merlin and agreed with him.

And nothing had ever ripped Merlin apart with such an incredible ferocity before. To have someone leaf over all the rotten, and to touch his hands, his face and his lips anyway.

It started like the book did. Not so much dark but just an absence of much light. Messy and tender, delicately swirling something more. But the person, like life, like the book, like Merlin, got nastier. They did what others did before. They did it better, worse, harder, gentler, they made Merlin a million swirling emotions at once and made him so lost and strange he lived inside himself and they pulled him back.

They told him to stop writing in the book. He didn’t.

They told him again, so he did it in secret.

They showed it to someone, someone else and made them sad. Made them hurt like Merlin hurt, worse, because they didn’t deserve it.

They showed Merlin he was tainted, not even tainted because he was never pure. They showed him he was evil and filthy. They showed him the book, Merlin, did it to others too. Wapred them, tortured them until they were like Merlin.

Merlin didn’t touch the book, like he didn’t touch himself until they asked him. He let the monsters eat him alive, let the poisons drown his system and the thoughts swarm his eyes.

He didn’t need the book, shouldn’t have it, didn’t deserve it. The evil, the badness inside him had to stay inside, to keep everyone else safe. They showed him that.

They kept the book, as a reminder. 

***

“I hope he didn’t ruin your night with Lance!” Morgana pouted. She was sat with Gwen on a bench outside campus, discussing the high and low lights of their weekend in the privacy and shade of the back of the school.

“No, I managed to get a lot closer to Lance, actually!” She squealed. Gwen feared she sounded a little calculating, but she wasn’t. Waiting a year to get to know someone you wanted to marry (tragic as that was) left a girl a lot of time to scheme, and dream.

“I’m pleased! Honestly, that other boy just needs to get out of the way.” Conspiratorially, Morgana lent forward and whispered. “Do you think he’s in some weird, twisted form of love with Lance?”

Gwen’s jaw dropped. It had never even crossed her mind.

“It would make sense!” She shrieked. “Why he’s always so upset, why he can’t stand us, why…” The two of them broke into a list of reasons why Merlin could, and probably was, in love with Lance. The proof piled up quickly.

“He’s a different type of sad altogether, then.” Morgana said with a nod. She looked as though she had slotted the last piece into an old puzzle, ready to clap her hands free of it and move on to the next one.

“Oh my god! Morgana, quick, quick look!” Gwen managed to scream in a whisper. It was rather impressive, really.

“What?” Morgana panicked, this had to be something important to stop the two of them bitching about Merlin. She followed Gwen’s (poorly concealed) pinting finger to see Arthur, sitting on a bench and talking animatedly with a friend. “What’s so bad about that?” She huffed. “It’s been a while before Arthur had a boyfriend, sure, but… Oh my god.”

“I know!” Gwen looked equal parts amused and horrified.

Beside Arthur, smiling and speaking wildly with his hands, was Merlin.

“Come on, Gwen.” Morgana rocketed up, dragging along her reluctant friend as she steam rolled towards Arthur.

If she had known her bother was so desperate for some male attention, she would have set him up with someone, anyone, other than Merlin.

“Arthur, Merlin, what a surprise!” The two boys looked up at her, Arthur in shock and irritancy and Merlin in amusement. Smugly, she noticed Merlin and Arthur weren’t touching. “Budge up then, if we’re being all chummy, make way for Gwen and I.”

The look of permanent amusement on Merlin’s face looked panicked for a moment, before he decided to stand up and leave the seat entirely to Morgana and Gwen. Arthur joined him.

“We’re not that big, boys.” She purred. “Please sit with us.”

Merlin sat on the floor, smiling up at her. It should look submissive, him a slave and she a queen, but Merlin looked anything but.

Especially when Arthur sat down beside him.

“So, what have you boys been up to?” Gwen filled, pulling Morgana on to the stone of the bench and they both landed with a slight wince.

“Err. Merlin was just helping me with some maths stuff, and we got lunch and then we got here.” Arthur mumbled. Morgana arched her eyebrow.

“Why on earth would you need help with maths?” She replied, slowly. Her cousin was studying physical education, training to become a coach or teacher. There was no logical reason for him to ask for Merlin’s attention.

Being horny and Merlin being easy was not a logical reason.

“Did you study the human body and physical education, Morgana?” Arthur puffed his chest out a little.

“No, but-”

“Then shut it.” He replied, sharply. Morgana was undeterred.

“Well, I suppose it will be nice for Lance to see you two pretending to be friends.” She smirked. “Before Merlin takes off to do what he does and we move on with our lives.” It was strange, to watch Arthur flinch and become outraged on Merlin’s behalf, while Merlin rolled his eyes with no intention of being seen by her.

“We’re not pretending to be friends Morgana.” Arthur relayed, slowly, agonisingly. She could see the worry on his face.

Morgana wasn’t really intentionally cruel, or sadistic. But in the long run, this was better. Make the break clean and quick, before Merlin seduced Arthur and broke his heart, before Arthur became a big mess and lost his strand in life.

Morgana was many things, protective was one of them.

“Of course not.” Morgana’s tone oozed sarcasm. “Anyway, on to the more important things, Uther will be visiting you soon.” She was pleased to note a little confusion on Merlin’s face. “Arthur’s *father?* You guys must have gotten a lot of important bonding done.”

Arthur glowered, but kept his mouth shut.

Before Morgana could entice Arthur in to an argument, a voice beside her spoke up.

“Have you called Lance back yet, Merlin?” Gwen sounded maternal. Morgana had almost forgotten Gwen was there. Merlin shook his head a little, self-satisfied smile falling. “He’s worried about you.”

“I gave him a note, Gwen.” Merlin sighed. Morgana couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked. Gwen looked like she wanted to say more, but decided against it.

Morgana allowed the awkward silence to engage Arthur for a moment. She allowed him to remember that Merlin needed constant vigilance for Lance, that Merlin was trouble.

Morgana was not nasty. She was not cruel. She could be a little spiteful, yes, but everyone can. She was protective of Arthur. Arthur was the one who taught her to be just as strong as the boys were, even if not in the same way, because they wouldn’t weaken for her. He was the one who showed her how to fight and how to run away, how to play football and cards and how to fake sick so your parents would believe you. He was the one who had helped Morgana through the mess of high school. Through her broken romances.

And Morgana was so thankful, so grateful and so happy to him for that. She wasn’t a very affectionate person, and she showed her gratitude in any way she could. Like now, she would protect him. From the heart break, the broken dregs and little seduction that was Merlin. She would protect her cousin from having his heart trampled to dust, from watching Merlin swan about like nothing happened after he was done with Arthur.

“So, Merlin. What are you planning to do over the holidays?” Gwen queried. She gave him a smile that seemed a bit too genuine not to concern Morgana, a little.

But clearly it wasn’t the right question to ask, because Merlin squirmed in his seat a little, searching for an answer before saying:

“Just, family stuff, really. I hear you guys are going to Greece, though? Lance sounds dead excited.” Merlin didn’t sound wistful, or like he was wheedling to get an invite.

“Yeah, Ios is one of the best party islands in the world!” Gwen looked delighted as she spoke. “Have you ever been?” Stupid question.

“No, I haven’t.” Merlin didn’t seem embarrassed, but careful about what he wanted to say. “Although, I used to read about Greece a lot. I always wanted to go to the temples; I loved all the greek myths when I was younger.”

“Aren’t they a bit intense to read when you’re a kid?” Arthur was looking at Merlin with an interest that was genuine and delicate. Morgana felt worried she was too late to help Arthur.

“I-” Merlin looked a little lost for words. “I dunno. I guess other stories were just a bit, twee.”

“I liked them too, actually.” Arthur replied, and Morgana almost laughed. That was a blatant lie, she heard Arthur mock history all the time, especially stories surrounding incest, stupid wars and stupid people.

“Name one!” Morgana shouted. “Name one God and what they do, impress me.”

“I… Uh…” Arthur stammered. Merlin laughed, well naturedly and without any spite.

Morgana was many things.

“Merlin would probably love the stories, seeing as they’re all about people desperate to get off and everyone else suffering the consequences.” As she spoke, it became obvious protective and vicious were some of them.

Arthur started to get up, to tell her off and protect Merlin (god knows why) but as he did Merlin stood up, placated him by shaking his head and saying something Morgana couldn’t quite here. Then, he thanked him for the company and said he had to get off for class.

Morgana found it hard to deny the crestfallen look on Arthur’s face, and the shaking head of Gwen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case it irks anyone here- i am admitting i am not entirely positive my facts are correct in the peter pan chat. but, they help bring out parts of merlin and artur's characters so even if they are blasphemy or libel we shall pretend they are law

Arthur could barely breathe. The songs were too loud, the people too intense, the drinks too strong and the feeling to strong. He needed out, he needed to get away from this club, this awful date, the awful night and go home and get to bed. 

But he was trapped on the dance floor, while his date was probably still dry heaving in the bathroom.

No matter how hard he tried to get out, hands pushed and pulled him back in, stiff crotches rubbed against him, hands tangled in his hair and he felt himself began to lose it, to get angry, to snarl and clench his fists.

Then he felt a hand on his wrist, so different than others. The fingers were long, pale, but held Arthur’s wrist as you’d cradle a bird. The hand pulled, not tugged or dragged, leading him through slots and openings in the barricade of bodies until he was out in the open, being lead to a broken fire exit and guided to the cold air and freedom of the night.

“Uh, thanks mate.” Arthur muttered, embarrassed and a little worried.

“You alright? You look, no offense but you look awful.” Arthur was shocked (although he shouldn’t be as destiny was a prick) to see Merlin standing a little in front of him, face concerned and gorgeous.

“I’m, um yeah. No, I’m fine.” Arthur sounded gruff. “I, guess I should head home.” Merlin gave him a careful nod. Arthur felt around in his pockets. “Shit.”

“Date was your ride, I’m guessing?”

“Yes.”

“No point going back for him, sorry, but the stuff he’s taken is enough to keep him slumped on the floor all night.” Merlin said apologetically.

“How do you know?” Arthur spun round. Mordred hadn’t seemed the kind to get off his head.

“He took it off me.”

In a minute, Arthur had crowded Merlin into a corner. Mordred was a perfectly nice kid, a bit odd but Arthur had been trying to help him come out his shell. It was unfair of Merlin to get him like that.

“Do you think messing with people is a little joke?” Arthur spat. Merlin sunk to the ground, then shot through the side of Arthur’s legs so quickly Arthur was yelling at a wall.

“He literally stole it from my hand before I took it, Jesus. Why would I waste my stuff on someone else?” Merlin fumed. Arthur took his arms away from the wall, spun round to speak again. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Merlin ordered.

Arthur was too confused to be angry, or insulted that Merlin let everyone touch him but Arthur.

“Why would Mordred want to get high?” Mordred was in the same department as Arthur, both studying physical education and human anatomy. He was also on the football team. They had to keep a good rep to stay in those things.

“Not a bloody clue, Watson.”

“Well it’s weird he just happened to grab it out your hand.” Arthur stopped, considering something. “And weird you dragged me out.”

“Please stop making me wish I’d left you to have a panic attack in there, Arthur, I try to appreciate my good deed of the day and would rather not spoil it.” Merlin snarled. “Not that I was expecting you to show any hint of decency once you saw it was me, but still.”

Arthur turned round, to notice Merlin charging off down the alley. Merlin weaved through the bin bags with a practised ease that Arthur didn’t have, knocking each bag in turn on his rush to Merlin.

“Look. I was just freaked out, alright?” He went to touch Merlin, to drag him round but Merlin had already turned to face him. “I’ve never, been to a place like this before. I got freaked out. Sorry.”

Merlin looked up at him then.

“Do you know how to get home?”

“I’m not that drunk, Merlin, I’ll get a cab.” Arthur grumbled with a shrug. He didn’t like to be treated like he was a helpless idiot.

“Taxi’s don’t come here.” Merlin explained. “Falling out with the owner, and the patrons. They don’t come within miles of here.”

“Then I’ll walk.” Arthur muttered, although his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

“I’ll walk with you.” Merlin sounded sombre. Before Arthur had a chance to turn him down, he continued. “Not that I doubt you can take care of yourself, but you’re a bit drunk and walking along a very dodgy area.”

“Nothing will happen!” But Arthur felt himself stumble as he spoke. Merlin didn’t comment, but Arthur knew he’d seen it.

“Well, if you did fall down a sewer grate or anything and I had the chance to watch and miss it, I could never forgive myself.” Merlin smirked. To his own surprise, Arthur laughed.

“Arse.” He replied, with a bit more affection than he’d meant.

The two of them walked along in a companionable silence, except for Arthur occasionally declaring the direction he needed to head in and the song Merlin hummed under his breath. Arthur tried to listen as well as he could, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t place the song. He didn’t want to ask Merlin, in case he got anxious and stopped.

Eventually, Arthur noticed in the entire walk through the various cities that must have stretched over an hour but barely felt like minutes) Arthur had barely been staying on his feet, Merlin hadn’t even swayed.

“What were you doing at the club?” He asked.

“Recruiting people to come to Neverland, Arthur.”

“Why would you start in a gay bar?” Arthur replied, surprised.

“They already believe in fairies.” Merlin replied in a dry voice. It took Arthur a few minutes, but once he latched on to the joke he laughed.

“I always liked the Peter Pan story.” Arthur replied, wistfully. “It was like, if Lord of the flies went right.”

Merlin chuckled a little.

“What? It is! Like a never ending sleep over!” Arthur replied petulantly.

“Did you ever hear about the original story?” Merlin asked. Arthur shook his head. “In the original, Peter Pan killed the lost boys when they got too old. He also never told them how to stop flying, so for weeks and weeks they would fly around, they couldn’t sleep, they couldn’t eat or drink. Then they’d drop, and sometimes he’d let them.”

“Oh.” Arthur replied. “Well I mean, Peter was probably just stressed out, cause of Hook and all.”

“Hook was actually a lost boy, and then he got too old so Peter went to kill him. Didn’t work, obviously.”

“Do you enjoy ruining happiness?” Arthur laughed.

Quietly, Merlin replied:

“Sometimes.” But too softly for Arthur to hear. It was closer to a confession than he’d ever gotten.

In his head, Merlin thought off all the other parts of the book. That tinkerbell had been in the middle of an orgy when they found Peter. 

“I can’t believe the book has that. Man, that’s so dark!” Arthur said, laughing to himself. “They’ll the made a cartoon film out of that! Morgana watched it for weeks!” He continued on, laughing at the irony.

Merlin didn’t tell him that stories he’d grown up with were probably manipulated from something lucid and grown up to something sweet and childish.

It was easy, then, for Arthur and Merlin to continue talking about book to film changes. Arthur was surprised that Merlin had read a tonne of classic and adult books as a kid, loving old fashioned and twisted stories even now but had never gotten round to reading modern day phenomenon’s, like Hunger Games and World War Z.

Arthur barely noticed how easy the topic of conversation changed and switched, but loved how he could bring up any topic in the world and he and Merlin would happily continue on without any breaks in chat.

Arthur had barely noticed that he’d been directing Merlin in a continuing circle around his flat for hours.

“Do you think you’re going to go to sleep tonight?” Arthur interrupted. Merlin turned his glassy blue eyes back at him, and as tired as he looked he smiled and shook his head. “I know a twenty four hour coffee shop. I always make fun of it, but since it’s open, might as well get some caffeine, carry us through today?”

Arthur didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Merlin nodded.

***

Later that day, when Arthur had been walking Merlin along campus as they had classes in an hour; the realization that the two of them hadn’t stopped speaking in around ten hours was one of a pleasant surprise more than a shocking realization.

The truth was Arthur had had the same four friends since his first year of uni, and three of them since his first day of primary school. And he couldn’t lose himself even a little as easily as he had Merlin’s.

Before Arthur properly had time to consider that, Morgana had trudged towards them like thunder through a cloudless sky.


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin found he could not kill a memory.

He drinks and still they float.

It’s so easy; to slip into a liquid state of ignorance. To douse the flames with alcohol. The pain is there, the wound is open but he does not notice the blood. He laughs, and flirts and kisses, he sings and dances and fucks, and for a little while it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Nothing matters and everything is golden. He sobers and falls to earth, he feels the fingerprints on his skin, he sees the camera lens and hears the whispers and yells of past and present.

He screams and still they’re heard.

His voice grows hoarse with noises, of pleasure, pain, sadness, happiness; his voice grows raw with lies. He swallows the sounds of others, works their mouth open to breathe in the noises they make, to steal another voice, another frame of mind, anything that isn’t his own. But still the voices, the memories of sounds fill him. Their apologies, their hate, their pleasure. The memories grow louder.

He runs and still they catch him.

He runs until his muscles burn, until his lungs are scalded cold, until he is lost in a new town under the same sky. He runs until his vision blurs and his legs stumble, until he’s so skinny the teachers call home. He runs until the pale skin that confines him is stained red. He runs so fast the world slips by in hazy tendrils. But still the memories find him.

He hurts and still they want him.

Inside, out, everywhere. He does it to himself, with a razor’s edge, with a bottle, with a pill, with a knife, a car, a run, a lighter, with his hands. The world does it to him, with memories, with stares, with the people. He hurts until the past and present are entwined through a bloody thread. He hurts. He breaks. And still they want him.

***  
Leon and Arthur had gone out on afternoon jogs every day since they were ten years old and were trying to make the football team. 

The times were regular, increasing in difficulty as they grew older, but Arthur was meticulous in the planning of them. He would scold Leon if they took too long, grow irritated if they were too short. He timed them down to the point where he had the steps per minute calculated, once.

So it was odd for him to have Leon stop and wait in the park for almost ten minutes now.

“Arthur, can’t we just go?” Leon grumbled. He’d been jogging on the spot, the stretching his legs, believing they would head off soon. “If you’re feeling tired, I promise not to tease you. Too much.”

“Shut up, Leon. Just give it a minute, yeah?” Arthur’s eyes seemed to scan around the almost empty park for something. As each minute passed he scanned quicker.

“Are you waiting for something?” Arthur blushed a little in response. “Oh, is it a someone?” Leon crowed. “Does Arthur have a crush?” Leon laughed, delightedly as Arthur squirmed a little.

“No, Leon. I’m just… I need to speak to someone.”

“Enough to have us standing around in the park and breaking your perfect schedule?” Leon replied in a sing song voice.

Arthur just stood, simmering a little. After another fifteen minutes, he began to run again, fast and angry.

***

Morgana managed to drag Leon along with her for this mission. He’d grumbled a little, mostly over the fact he had been Morgana’s second choice, but his curiosity over Merlin eventually won out.

Morgana tried not to look too deeply into Gwen refusing to attack Merlin with her. Well, not attack. Violently manipulate.

It hadn’t taken a lot of effort to find Merlin, either. They’d found him slumped over in the coffee shop near the university, hung over with school work sprawled across his desk.

“Merlin, what a surprise to see you again!” She drawled, grabbing a seat without asking if they had permission to join him. Leon followed her, making her feel like a duchess with a guard. It was not an unwelcome feeling.

On the other hand, the look of utter contempt Merlin gave her was.

“Busy night?” She made it sound friendly. Merlin pulled up his coffee cup, downing the dregs with a large gulp and throwing the cup to a bin without watching it land with a perfect swish. “You look exhausted.” He grunted in reply.

For a moment, she allowed Merlin to adjust to the all-knowing glare she bestowed upon him.

“I hear you denied Arthur’s invite to his party.” Leon said, perfect from the practice he’d had with Morgana.

“I didn’t deny it, I declined.”

“Either way, Merlin.” Morgana retorted. “You’re breaking the promise. Lance won’t feel as comfortable if you’re not there.” Which was a lie. But Merlin needed to be there for the plan.

“He’ll be delighted by the fact he won’t have to watch me pour gin into my sodas.” Merlin drawled, rubbing his hands across sleepy eyes. “And he will be able to take off to play seven minutes in heaven with Gwen, or whatever you’re planning for them.”

“Merlin, the way we’ve acted has been, childish. This is how we extend an apology.” Leon replied. Morgana had planned what they would say carefully, enough to reel Merlin in whilst also leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. “There will be lots of people you’ll get on with, too.”

It wasn’t like he was actually in trouble, genuinely really suffering. Morgana’s own father had been an alcoholic, and he was not like Merlin. Merlin was a stupid little kid who never thought of consequences. Morgana’s father had the world of pressure on him, and wore the marks of his own destruction under layers of clothing and attempts to shade them. Morgana learnt that was what people did with pain. Merlin wore his blunders like badges of honour, in her eyes. She would get him to see what he was, to fix himself like people had to do. They would all be better for it.

“I doubt that. Even so, I tend do find someone I’ll get along with for a while wherever I go.” He sounded weary. “But that’s beside the point. What are you actually here for, because you don’t even want me at that party.”

Oh, but she did. 

“We need to have a chat.” She summarised.

“We don’t.”

“Oh, Merlin sweetie, we do.”

“No, you wanting to talk while I’m pinned like a butterfly on a board and forced to listen is not a ‘chat’ Morgana.” Merlin growled, properly looking at Morgana for the first time. His eyes were veined with red and clouded with sleepless grey. “And whatever petty little insult you have to spit out this time while I insult you with my very existence is not something I’m interested in hearing.”

Leon gulped.

“I get that appealing to your better nature is impossible, but whatever I have to give you to go away and just leave me alone, I’ll do it.” Merlin looked like he wanted to stand up, but even Leon could see that he was too tired and too jittery to manage it with even a shred of dignity.

“I just need your word, Merlin.” Morgana replied. She sounded so calm, so collected.

“My word to what?” Merlin sounded suspicious, understandably so.

“Come to Arthur’s party.” Morgana leaned forward. “Really, it’s that simple.”

Merlin gave the two of them a look that whispered ‘I know everything you try to hide from the world’ and dug his hands into his lap.

“Nothing’s that simple.” He whispered.

“Merlin, truly this is.” Morgana said gently. “Arthur has been talking to us-” it could have been her imagination, but Merlin seemed to perk up at the mention of his name “- and we think we were unfair in our treatment of you. It was stupid, and we really are sorry.” Morgana began to gather her bag, standing up and feeling light. “Just, come to the party, if you still can’t forgive us then we’ll all part ways on friendly terms, ok?”

She knew it wasn’t her imagination when Merlin gave a tentative nod.

***

Leon often sat in wonder of how incredible Morgana was. She was one of the strongest people he knew. People often labelled her as a ‘bitch.’ Leon assumed it was because she was fiercely independent, and confident. People didn’t know how to handle her.

Leon certainly didn’t. He usually sat back and watched in awe, happy to be welcomed in to Morgana’s glittering world. She reminded him of Daisy Buchannan, but more proud and less fickle. 

He listened, morbidly interested as she detailed the plan.

“So, Leon, now Merlin’s coming to the party we just need to convince Arthur to invite Gwaine.”

“Morgana…” Leon was reluctant about this part of the plan. Gwaine was a diluted Merlin, and out of control party boy, but from a good family who had been friends of the Pendragon’s for years. He and Arthur had a relationship for a while, but Gwaine had dropped out like it was nothing and left Arthur gutted. Leon didn’t want to see that happen again, but with a pale body instead of a tanned one.

“Leon, Arthur has basically agreed. It will be good if we can get him closure over the two relationships at once.” Morgana reprimanded. Leon’s grip tightened a little on the steering wheel. “Then we set Merlin and Gwaine chatting, making sure Arthur sees them and realizes what a stupid fuss he’s having over them both.” Leon knew it was better to make the break quick and clean, but he wondered if it had to be so callous. “By then, Cendred will have shown up, and you can introduce them.”

Cendred was the bachelor Morgana had deemed suitable for Arthur. He was from a wealthy family, studying business, a friend of one of Morgana’s high school pals, socially adequate, gay and incredibly handsome to boot. It had taken Morgana three weeks to choose the lucky candidate for Arthur.

“Lance and Gwen will have *finally* sorted themselves out.” Morgana squealed. “Arthur will almost definitely find love with Cendred. Merlin will be done with to sort his own life out after-”

“Do you think we should try and get him a therapist?” Leon interrupted. Morgana stopped, turning up to look at him.

“Leon, there are people who are seriously messed up. There are people who are hurt, broken, people who really need help.” She sighed. “It’s like you said, he’s doing it to look cool and mysterious. I can’t stand him acting like he has problems; it cheapens the issues of people who really need help.”

***

Merlin’s monsters all have red eyes. They are unblinking, unfeeling, uncaring.

The other children are scared the monsters will catch them. Merlin is scared they never will. Merlin is scared the monster will sit there, glowing eyes unmoving, forever. That it will let the people touch him, to hold him and to force him, he worries the eyes will give their unblinking permission forever. He worries the eyes will never close, never get closer and never stop them, him, it.

The other children speak of nightmares with a small shiver before they laugh again. Merlin makes squeaks and jibbers when asked why he is so tired, before he falls into the feeling again, until he is there again, until it is happening again. Teachers speak to bring him back, children laugh and run away, sometimes they touch him and he cries.

The other children grow out of nightmares. They sometimes mention them a few times a month, but they don’t look scared or tired anymore. Merlin’s grow louder, they grow stronger and to make room he has to get quieter and weaker.

The other children say their parents make it better. They bring in milk, stories, hugs, they chase the monsters away and sit watch as the children return to their dreams. That does not happen to Merlin, the dad he has is the bringer, the one who summons the red eyed monster in his nightmares.

The other children speak of nightmares in their sleep. Merlin’s monsters haunt him while he is awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A perfectly lovely comment has alerted me my chapters tend to be a wee bit short, the next one should hopefully be a bit longer, just wanted to post this filller. Hope it's not too shabby
> 
> PS bless all kudos leaving people. commentors and viewers. Honestly it's the reactions that make me even bother continuing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lovely commentators have pointed out I have forgotten the small detail of a plot development and I want to apologise. I've been a bit off lately and I really hope this chapter is a little more satisfactory.

Arthur was surprised at how easy it was to sit back, watch Gwaine flit and flirt about the party without wanting to cry or yell or both. He wasn’t even suspicious at Morgana for insisting Gwaine was invited, the closure felt good.

He told himself it was nothing to do with a pair of shocking blue eyes or a mess of raven coloured hair meeting him outside class and promising he’d come to a party.

Although it was, a little. Not in a nasty way, he was getting really sick of Morgana’s little game and planned to do something to finish it, and not in a perverted way, he had as little intention of bending Merlin over a flat surface as he did a few weeks ago. But the easy act of Merlin’s friendship, which was void of all scheming and other intent or act of pretentiousness, was such a blast of fresh air for Arthur.

“Arthur! How’s it going?” Another face Arthur really should have recognised stumbled over to wrap him in a hug. Arthur joined it with a fake smile plastered to his face.

As his face began to ache from the false friendliness he spent on the other man, Arthur’s smile turned real once he spotted Merlin bumbling about between the tables, guided by Morgana. Arthur called him over, and watched with amusement as he broke away from the iron clad grip Morgana had on him to come up to Arthur.

“Hey, Merlin!” Arthur forgot himself for a moment, and went to slap Merlin’s back like he had done with other guests. Merlin shrinking away a little reminded him that he was weird about touching. “Glad you made it.” Arthur mentally reprimanded himself for sounding so pleased.

Merlin gave one of the few genuine smiles Arthur had even seen from him, before allowing himself to sprawl out over a beanie chair with so little elegance Arthur had to laugh as he did the same.

“Nice place you got here.” Merlin smiled.

“Must you be such a cliché?” Arthur retorted, pulling a beer out from one of the ice boxes he kept round the flat and extending it to Merlin. Merlin shook his head.

“Well, Lance gave me a book on party etiquette a while ago.” Merlin began.

“Why on earth would he give you that?” Arthur spluttered back.

“There was this really posh girl, and she invited me to her birthday, but I’d never been to a one before and didn’t know what to do.” Merlin shrugged.

“So Lance got you a book.” Arthur repeated. “A dummies guide or?” Merlin laughed and threw a pillow at Arthur’s head. “Really, you couldn’t just eat cake and jelly like a normal child?”

“This was a posh party, Arthur!” Merlin shot back indignantly. “I was worried it would be, I don’t know, caviar cake and haggis or something.”

“Ahh, Haggis, the renowned food of the posh!” Arthur choked between his laughs.

“Shut up.” Merlin whined. “You’re posh, what do you eat?”

“No I’m not. But, anyway, what did that book have to do with your compliment?” Arthur spouted, finished with the impromptu burst of laughter.

“Oh, right. You’re meant to compliment the host or their home.” Merlin supplied, giving Arthur a quick once over. “And if I inflated your ego any further and you exploded I’d feel a little guilty.”

“Arse.” Arthur muttered back, but as he sipped from the beer bottle he allowed his smile to curl and the corners a little. “Anyway, my home is but an extension of me.”

“Alright, ‘Good Housekeeping,’ keep a lid on it.” Merlin sniped. His fingers stilled, and Arthur realized he had never seen Merlin so still. “Anyway, how’s the night going?”

Arthur had to physically stop himself from saying something that was stupid and misleadingly flirty, like ‘all the better now you’re here.’

“That book Lance gave you must have been designed for geriatrics; the conversation starters are a bit slow, aren’t they?” Arthur shot back. 

“I will have you know under the brilliant guiding of that book I was invited to many more of posh Annabeth’s parties.” Merlin replied petulantly. The two of them looked round the room, watching people drown in beer bongs, mime sex on the dance floor, yell and mock fight around them.

“How the mighty have fallen.” Arthur retorted.

***

Lance was always dumbstruck by just how beautiful Gwen was. Tonight, she was wrapped in a pale yellow dress, her hair caught in a bun with a few curly strands slipping out to frame her eyes like perfection. She looked so beautiful it was hard to believe she was not an oil painting.

“Hey Lance.” She’d smiled. She smelt of something expensive and musky and it helped Lance concentrate. “Place looks great, doesn’t it?”

Arthur’s flat was always a mecca of style and the latest trends, and tonight was no exception. The size of the place always made Lance a little unfairly jealous, but the fact that Arthur’s lounge alone could easily fit over forty people spoke volumes.

Gwen placed a glass of something bubbly in his hand, and he swallowed it without a second’s thought. Morgana had been warning him to make a move on Gwen, and tonight seemed like the perfect night. He just needed a little liquid courage.

“Where’s Merlin?” Gwen asked. Her concern touched him. 

“Morgana swept him off somewhere, to meet a friend of Arthur’s?” He replied. Gwen’s brow furrowed.

“Oh, I thought she’d leave him to it.” Then Gwen shrugged. “Never mind!” She leaned forward, like she was sharing an important secret, but kept her voice raised. “I was really looking forward to you coming, tonight.” Lance saw a little blush cross her cheeks.

Lance decided to give the alcohol enough time to stop bubbling in his throat, and then he would ask Gwen if she wanted to sit on the balcony and chat. The bedroom seemed too assuming, and the other areas were guaranteed to be filled with party goers.

“Oh, I love this song!” Gwen beamed, and pulled Lance up to dance with her. For a moment, Lance worried that Gwen was filled with a little too much ‘liquid courage’ of her own for it to be appropriate of him to ask, before he chided himself for being a coward and trying to step out again.

The two of them danced, and Lance couldn’t help but notice how easily they slotted together, movements like extensions of each other and so easy, so fun, it made Lance feel ridiculously happy.

So happy, he barely noticed Gwen leading him to the winding, metal staircase, which lead to the outside of Arthur’s flat.

“Where are we going?” He laughed.

Gwen didn’t stop, giggling a little and pulling Lance up the grate stairs, surprisingly nimbly considering she was wearing pale gold heels.

She eventually pulled them both to a stop, and Lance found himself up on the roof of the apartment complex. Miles of stars and sky stretched above them, the moon pale and clouded by a sheath of silver cloud.

Then, before Lance had time to open his mouth and say the speech he had been practising all week, Gwen placed her lips on his.

Everything Lance knew about kissing swept away like the sun in the night. It felt like he had never actually been kissed before, like nothing else could be called kissing in comparison to this. Gwen’s lips were soft and warm, and Lance cradled the back of her head with his hand.

After a few moments, Gwen pulled away, shyly.

“I… I’m sorry, Lance, I just really wanted to kiss you- and Merlin said I should just do it because you would be too nervous-” Lance cut her off with another kiss.

***

It had taken a while for Morgana to shepherd Gwaine and Merlin into the same part of the room. Which was odd, she thought the two of them would attract like magnets.

“Gwaine, this is Merlin. Merlin, Gwaine.” She announced. She could feel Arthur glowering on the skin of her neck. “You two have a lot in common.” She said with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Gwaine chuckled. The two of them smiled, and then Merlin fell back to his chair, as did Arthur. Gwaine shrugged and took a pillow on the floor. Morgana decided to perch on the couch and observe. “So, what are you lads on about?”

“Probably couldn’t explain if I tried.” Arthur huffed. For a moment, the three of them were quiet, before Merlin noticed the obvious awkwardness.

“So, Gwaine, what are you up to over the holidays?” Merlin smiled. Gwaine began to boast and brag how he would be joining them all in Ios, and about the amount of alcohol and people he intended to go through. Morgana was surprised to see Merlin flinch a little.

“Arthur. Arthur, come over here.” She whispered. She stood up and extended a hand to him, and although he seemed reluctant to leave Gwaine and Merlin he came along willingly enough. “I have someone for you to meet.” He began to interrupt, but she hushed him again. “His name is Cendred, don’t pull that face you’ll love him. He’s studying business, Arthur don’t look bored please, he’s handsome and charming. You’ll get along well.” Arthur grunted. “They say opposites attract.”

***

Cendred was a surprisingly good catch. He was handsome, ambitious, confident and easy to talk to. He was a bit slow, and a little crude, but Arthur was drunk enough to let that slide. Just like he let Cendred slide his tongue down his throat, and slid his own hands up Cendred’s t-shirt.

As the party died down, the two of them found themselves in a spare room, sharing lips and tongues and hands on flesh. Cendred’s hands began to worm at Arthur’s zipper.

Arthur’s movements were a little clumsy, and Cendred’s were confident and sure. He tried to think back, wondering how much Cendred had to drink in comparison to him.

“Stop.” Arthur panted out between kisses. Cendred grunted, hands going quicker to the band of Arthur’s trousers. “Dude, stop.” Arthur pulled his mouth away from Cendred, whose tongue still chased him hungrily.

“Why?” Cendred smirked. “I can feel how fucking hard you are.” He cupped his hand over the bulge in Arthur’s trousers, and Arthur pulled away. “I know you’re really gagging for it.” Cendred tried to push Arthur back in to the wall. “You’re cousin’s been telling us all how desperate you are.” Arthur cringed.

“Just get off!” He snapped.

“You’ve been hanging round with that little slut, haven’t you picked up on his habits?” Cendred leered.

Arthur tried to get away again, but Cendred’s arms were strong. He felt a wave of icy heat shiver through him and almost gagged on his heart beats. He was terrified.

“I’m not a slut!” Arthur snapped.

“Well, a tease is worse.” Cendred replied, hand edging round Arthur’s boxers.

Before Arthur could do anything else, the door to the room opened and the two of them were bathed in light.

“Oh, shit, sorry, didn’t realize you guys were busy.” Arthur decided the voice belonged to Merlin. Cendred jumped away from Arthur like he was red hot.

Arthur looked over at Merlin, whose face switched from apologetic to suspicious and a little angry at once.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” His voice was gentle but his tone was stern. Arthur closed his eyes.

“Just, piss off, yeah?” Cendred began, before he turned to see Merlin and stopped.

“Oh, I know you.” Merlin preened. “Best you’re off right now, yeah? Seeing as you’re far more sober than Arthur is?” Cendred looked like he was about to stand and fight. “Or don’t, but you now have a witness.” Merlin gave a shallow grin. “And I’ll keep Camelot Police on speed dial, just in case?”

As Cendred crashed off, swearing and threatening Merlin while pushing him into the arch of the door, Arthur let out a quiet sob and shrunk to the floor.

The light from the door frame closed, and Arthur realized Merlin must have left him alone to his shame. He curled up on the floor a little, fighting back scalding tears. Jesus, he was so fucking pathetic, he’d been the one to encourage Cendred.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a body slide down beside him.

“So, there’s probably no need to say this, as you’re an intelligent guy.” It was Merlin. “But Cendred’s a prick, and whatever happened there was not because of you.”

Arthur didn’t say anything.

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered. He was close, Arthur noticed the line of their bodies touching. “It’s not your fault.”

“It was, though.” Arthur snarled after a few moments of a painful silence. “I fucking, I acted like I wanted to.” He stopped, overcome with the feeling of Cendred’s mouth on his again.

“Did you tell him you wanted to?”

“No, but-”

“Then no you didn’t.” Merlin replied, strongly. “Flirting is not consent. Consent is consent.”

“Yes, but-”

“There are no buts. I’m not even going to let you finish trying to justify him.” Merlin replied definitely. “You didn’t do anything wrong, or anything bad. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

Arthur went to open his mouth, but the words crashed in to each other in his throat and he let out a choked sob.

“Arthur…” Merlin sounded pull of empathy.

“Nothing even fucking happened!” Arthur snapped. His hands were shaking; his legs cold and voice wavering. “Like, he barely even touched me and I’m a bloody mess!”

“Arthur, something did happen. Someone broke your trust, someone scared the living hell out of you. You’re obviously fucking scared, I was scared even walking in to the room.” Merlin sounded so gentle. He shivered a little beside Arthur.

“But, like worse happens, and people just get on with it-”

“Arthur, just because someone else has it bad makes you no less entitled to your feelings. If you want to cry, cry a goddamn river. Just make sure you don’t drown yourself in whatever you’re feeling. Get it out; get it out and away as soon as you feel it.”

Arthur sat, tasting Merlin’s words and considering them.

“You’d have made a good English student.” Arthur sniffled.

“No, my writing is much too sad.”

***

It was three AM by the time the party had cleared. Arthur had stayed in the spare room, dozing on and off for a few hours, before Merlin nudged him awake to put him in his own bed. He still felt a little tender, but talking to Merlin had calmed his thoughts.

Instead, the two of them ended up tidying parts of the lounge with Morgana and Leon, whilst giving Lance and Gwen gentle teasing about their relationship.

“I was getting worried Lance would turn to poetry next.” Merlin jested.

“Or Gwen would become a tragic nun.” Leon affirmed.

Lance and Gwen just gave light smiled.

“Well, Ios will be much more fun now you two won’t be giving puppy eyes across every club.” Arthur affirmed.

Morgana twitted:

“Oh, can I be maid of honour at your wedding?”

The night went on, the chiding continued but Arthur noticed a pattern. Any time a mention of the upcoming holiday to Ios was mentioned, Morgana would scrabble to change the subject.

“Merlin, you should come to Ios, too.” Arthur finally interrupted. The idea had been with him for a while, but it was only now he really felt comfortable to say it.

Other than Morgana’s dropping jaw, no one else seemed too angry at the idea. Lance looked pleased, while Gwen even managed to look indulgent.

“Sorry, I’ve got… family stuff going on.” Arthur could tell Merlin was lying. But no matter how much he and Lance chided, Merlin refused to change his mind about the holiday.

But Arthur always liked a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking the next chapter will be quite focused on Merlin's childhood? Please leave any thoughts/ feelings you have about that, if you like.
> 
> Honestly, as long as you're not rude leave any plot direction you would be interested in.
> 
> Really hope I'm on the ball a bit more with this chapter, but tell me if I'm not!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking in on Merlin's childhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was typing this while I was ill at four in the morning and realized I had used different tenses in basically every sentence. I've fixed it as well as I could, if I notice any more I'll edit again. So so sorry if it appears sloppy.

By birth, Merlin had already done his first bad thing.

His mum had died when giving birth to him, and he was placed in the care of his dad. He made his dad lose the love of his life, and give up on a chance of finding a new one, because now he had ‘baggage.’ Merlin had ruined two lives by simply entering his own.

By four, Merlin had been kissed and touched more times than he could count to.

He wondered if the kids at school liked it when their dad, or their dad’s friends, would lick at their lips or pull at their belts. He wondered if it made them feel slimy even if it was the only time they heard ‘I love you’ and the only time they were told they were being right. He thought the other kids may have been better, because their parents touched them in front of others, but he always shrunk away when people came near.

By six he learnt touching was never just touching.

He learnt that kisses came with a camera flash, and that if he closed his eyes they finished quicker. He learnt that when people touched him he had to make noises, to show he was happy and grateful. He had to make a show, his dad called it ‘acting’ because that would make the monster stay in the corner, and make the people touching him finish quicker. He found out how to wriggle and squirm in the right way to make the men go faster, to leave quicker. He never learnt how to do it to the ladies.

He learnt that his dad was happier after Merlin let the people touch him. That the nights after they let themselves on Merlin lead to morning’s his dad made breakfast and walked him to school. It lead to Chinese takeaway for dinner and movie nights.

By eight he’d been shown the other children didn’t touch like he did.

Some girls would plant wet kisses on his cheek. He flinched, because their tenderness was too like the ladies his dad would bring round. Their gentleness was too intimate, too much for him to understand. 

Some boys would kick him in the knees, shin, face, stomach. They did not want to touch his lips or his trousers, like his dad’s friends did. But they were not gentle, and they never said sorry, and every mean word they said sounded the same as when the grownups touched him too.

By ten, he knew he was covered in hand prints.

Not the bruises or the scratches. Not the little marks that cluttered his skin. Merlin was covered, tainted, by invisible finger prints. They always itched, no matter how hard he wriggled he could always feel them thrumming against his sides. It didn’t matter how hard he washed, he’d used a wire brush along his sides and through the bloody scratches he still felt the shadows of hands. They squeezed him. They would not let him forget.

By twelve, he had come up with ways to forget the hand prints, the kisses, the touches.

He replaced them with other ones.

***

Merlin had not been able to sleep last night. He couldn’t relax, he couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t focus.

He had lost his book.

He had opened Pandora’s Box. The horrid, filthy, vile parts of him were etched in to paper and someone would find them, and they would know, they would know all the rotten parts Merlin kept twisted under his skin, all the monsters he kept quiet. They would know, and they would tell people, and they would hate him and be hurt by him.

“Merlin.” Mr Aredian said with a smile. Merlin liked Mr Aredian. He didn’t ask hard questions like the teachers did, or give him suspicious looks like other grownups. And he knew how to touch Merlin so it didn’t feel filthy, and he didn’t get mad when Merlin tried to move away.

“Yes sir.” The other children had all trundled out of class, going home to their parents for the weekend.

Merlin’s dad hadn’t been home in a few days. It was OK though, because Merlin was almost a grown up now and he knew what to do. His dad had left him almost fifty pounds so he could get pizza for dinner and buy a film. Merlin’s dad had even taken the monster with the red eyes away with him somewhere.

“Ah. Merlin.” Mr Aredian sighed. The old man sat down in his squashy leather chair, and Merlin wondered if it was comfortable. “Please, take a seat.” Merlin perched on the wooden stool Mr Aredian kept by the desk for the naughty children.

Merlin never got told to sit in the chair. Mr Aredian didn’t know he was the worst child in the world.

“Am… Am I in trouble, sir?” Merlin stuttered. The wood was sore and his back couldn’t relax.

“Well, Merlin, I think we need to talk.” Merlin gulped. Had Mr Aredian found out about what Merlin did so the red eyes wouldn’t chase him? “I’ve found something of yours.” Mr Aredian slipped his hand across the desk. He removed his palm to show a tattered, black jotter. Merlin’s book.

His pulse slammed in to him and the air fell out of his lungs. He ducked his head, crimson shame pulsing over his face.

“I assume this is yours, Merlin.” Merlin gave a weak nod. “Well, I’m glad to have returned it to you before someone else saw it.” The two of them sat in an agonising minute, as Merlin slid the book closer to him and hugged it to his chest. “Merlin, how are things at home?”

Usually Mr Aredian never asked Merlin questions that made him scared, that made him have to lie.

“They’re, they’re good. Sir.” Merlin whimpered. He needed to go home. His dad might call tonight. He promised he’d call.

“Mmm.” Mr Aredian hummed. “Well, Merlin, some of the things in that book are very bad things to be happening for children, for children to do.” Merlin couldn’t breathe. “Do you understand?” The handprints flared on his skin.

“Yes sir. I’m… Sorry.” Merlin whispered.

“Good boy, Merlin.” No one ever called Merlin a good boy. Mr Aredian lent forward, and his hand slid further along the desk until it was clasping one of Merlin’s hands.

The thrumming of handprints wormed on to Merlin’s skin just… stopped.

“You wouldn’t want people to know what’s in here, would you Merlin?” Merlin shook his head, panicked. Mr Aredian had to keep it a secret. “No, but I get the idea you’re good at secrets.” Mr Aredian’s hand began to slide down Merlin’s tummy. Merlin didn’t like it, but it was the only thing he could feel.

“Sir…”

“Merlin.” Mr Aredian made his hand stop at the top of Merlin’s trousers. “Where is your father?”

“At home.” Merlin choked on the lie.

“Don’t lie to me, Merlin. If you lie to me, I will have to show someone the things in that book. If you lie it means you can’t be trusted.” Mr Aredian explained. “Where is your father?”

“I don’t know.” Merlin almost sobbed.

“Alright, Merlin.” Mr Aredian purred. “Are you taking care of yourself at home?” Merlin gave a feeble nod. “Isn’t that scary, though? But I suppose you’re almost a big boy. You can take care of yourself, can’t you?” Merlin’s nod was more confident this time. “But still, aren’t you lonely? Speak up, Merlin.”

“Yes sir.” Merlin lisped.

“I tell you what, why don’t you come stay at mine tonight, just so you aren’t lonely?” Mr Aredian nodded.

Merlin bit his lip. His dad didn’t tell him he had to stay in the house. But his dad also said he couldn’t go to a babysitter, they didn’t have money.

“I can’t afford to pay you to take care of me.” Merlin uttered, ashamed.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Mr Aredian smiled. When Merlin looked up, although his own eyes were filled with tears, Mr Aredian’s glittered with something else entirely.

***

 

Later, when Mr Aredian was asleep beside him, Merlin felt more hand prints. He saw the bruises of them marred in his skin. But when Mr Aredian touched him again, like when the monster watches, Merlin decided he’s rather feel what’s really there than the shadows.

***

Merlin thanked God that Ealdor was one of those shitty towns where you could easily get wasted on anything you liked and no one cared. He was sixteen now, and it was as easy to buy his own drink as when he was fourteen. As long as you didn’t end up vomiting in their garden or something no one even noticed him doing it.

Except Lance, who cared about everything. That kid had been a pain in Merlin’s ass for ages, made worse by the fact he was probably created in a lab. No one should be that lovely without secretly being an android. The guy had organised a celibacy club, which an ironic number of ‘virgins’ and signed up to, a ‘group against substances’ club that was singlehandedly trying to remove drugs and alcohol from Ealdor, and God knows what else in the few weeks they’d been at school.

He’d come up to Merlin and offered him ‘help.’ ‘Oh, with anything, school, or at home. Whatever.’ Which Merlin had wanted to punch him in the face for (and hadn’t, miracle). His school work was fine. English was a bit of a mess but his teachers called his writing ‘too sad’ and looked like they wanted to send him to guidance, so he stopped doing it. 

But the others were good. Merlin was great at school; just not in the subjects he could express things. He was good at maths because how confusing were numbers really? And he was good at science because everything in them happened because of something, for a reason, and he would spend all the time needed to find it.

And if Merlin had decided to tell Lance the stuff that went on at home, no one would believe him.

The cheap whisky- or was it vodka?- scalded his throat in the best way.

Things tasted better under the night sky. Merlin wasn’t sure why, or what it was, but things were just better at night. The ache in his legs from miles of running was reduced to a dull throb. The air was sharp, not as sharp as the cheap crap he gorged himself on but it kept him relatively sober. It left the haze, though; Merlin would do so much to keep a layer of any kind of haze between him and the rest of the world.

“Hey, kid.” A guy sat down beside him. “Awful dangerous for a kid like you to be out here alone.”

Merlin wanted to laugh, because his life’s become a walking cliché. He wanted to cry because he can’t escape it.

Wordlessly, he handed the bottle over to the man and he takes a swig.

“Cheers, mate.” The guy huddled more in to his jacket, and Merlin traces the frost on the ground with his foot. Merlin’s in a T-shirt and jeans but he loves the cold. “What are you doing out here?”

Merlin decided the guy must be a vagrant. If Merlin’s life were a musical the man would have a heart of gold, and secretly be his true father returned from the war to save him. If his life were a TV show he’d be raped and stabbed. If his life were a story he’d be frightened by the man’s dastardly intentions and run home to absolve him of sin.

But Merlin’s life is real and the man does none of those things.

They sat and drank, until the bottle was empty and then the vagrant took out a pack of cigarettes and passed one to Merlin.

“Why are you here, kid?”

“Seems as good a place as any.” Merlin replied with a shrug.

“You should be home.” The man said, shaking his head sadly and shielding his cigarette from the wind.

“Home is where the heart is.” Merlin deadpanned. He looked around; they were sat on the pavement outside a liquor store and across from a porn shop.

“What the hell is your heart tied to here?” The vagrant snapped. 

“The company.” Merlin mutters. He wondered if the vagrant will kill him or just hit him. Instead he laughs, knocks Merlin on the shoulder and although Merlin didn’t want to get touched tonight he decides he doesn’t mind.

“You’re a tough kid.”

Merlin’s not.

***

On the nights Merlin doesn’t want to be groped or clucked at, on the nights there’s no video to record, he’ll take off on a five mile run to the liquor stop.

Some nights the vagrants there, sometimes he’s not. Either way, Merlin will be sat on a cold pavement, watching stars fade as he gets drunk on an alcohol cheap enough to strip paint. He likes the vagrant, he never asks any stupid questions and he’ll listen to whatever stupid answers Merlin has to give.

Merlin never asks, but he gets the feeling the vagrants been where he is. Or like he is.

He never learns the guy’s name, but calls him ‘Kilgar’ in his head, because he reminds him of a Viking. Or a dragon, with all that flaky skin and stream of smoke that always comes from his mouth and cigarettes.

“Kid. Kid you need to get out of this town.” Sometimes when Kilgar talks he makes it sound like they’re in an old western film. “You’ll be getting a job soon.”

Merlin doesn’t say he technically has one.

“Or going to some big city to get taught how to do a job. Whatever.” Kilgar rumbles between coughs. “Promise. God damn, if I could go back and get out, I would.”

Merlin doesn’t make promises. He isn’t reliable. His thoughts are too scattered and too lost. He forgets or he stops caring without meaning too. He stopped making promises because they were dirt in his mouth.

“Promise.” He whispers. He makes his promise to Kilgar a diamond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This chapters quite different from the others but I still hope you'll like it
> 
> Probably won't be updating as regularly for a while as I need to spend time on my other works but I will return ASAP
> 
> Thank you all for your support


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may feel a bit scrappy, I'm a bit messed up right now. Needed to put an update for you lovely people though.
> 
> Also, huge appreciation to all comments and kudos
> 
> Also wanted to tell the people opening up about their own experiences how fucking brave and incredible they are for doing it. Those who do not feel up to it yet, I hope one day you will be. Thank you all

Gaius sat, cocking his eyebrow as his signature move as he looked over to the patient sat before him.

He had been Merlin Emrys sixth psychiatrist in as many years. Merlin had been signed up on a government paid programme that had never stopped.

Merlin Emrys was an oddly surprising patient- more so than the usual. He was closed off, introverted in every sense of the word despite the mile long list criminal record he came bound to. Gaius had been trained as a psychiatrist for years, and was one of the best in the business. He could tell Merlin had some very supressed issues, that he was self-destructive, self-loathing. Not a danger to himself and society, but unhappy.

But Gaius didn’t know exactly what had made him that way. If he were to guess, it would be something to do with severe parental issues. Perhaps being abused at some point in his life, too. But he had been with Merlin for almost two months, and the boy barely said a thing. He barely showed up.

Gaius wondered what he should do, really. Merlin wouldn’t hurt anyone, but Gaius also worried he wouldn’t be able to maintain himself any longer. He wondered if he should be institutionalised.

After half an hour of silence, he managed to get Merlin talking about why he’d chosen maths to study. The fact he could block everything else for a bit, was the sum of the answer. The rest of the hour and a half long session was spent in silence.

***

 

They were all sat at a bar, toasting their departure for Ios the next day when Arthur saw Merlin stumble in through the back. He was about to call him over, before noticing how thrashed Merlin was.

“Excuse me.” Arthur said, as he stood up from the table and left his friends. He walked over to where Merlin was stood, swaying, to give him a hand. “Merlin?”

Merlin spun round. His eyes were etched in red stains, and his skin was so pale Arthur swore he saw his veins. He looked confused for a minute, before giving Arthur a lopsided smile and calling his name.

Lance was beside Arthur in a second. It was incredible, Merlin seemed to snap to acceptably sober in a flash.

“How was Gaius?” Lance asked slowly, sizing Merlin up and down.

Merlin looked a little uncomfortably at Arthur, but still replied:

“Uh, yeah. Bit pissed I’ve not been there in a while. Fine though.”

“Good.” Lance seemed to relax a little. “How did you know we were here, anyway?” But Lance’s face fell at the sheepish look on Merlin’s face. He obviously hadn’t a clue the group would be there. “Come sit with us. Merlin.”

Begrudgingly, Merlin followed Lance to the booth. His expression was almost as sour as Morgana’s.

Soon enough, the conversation began to run and flow.

Arthur couldn’t help but notice that Merlin basically had no input to the conversation at all. He simply sat there, fingers ripping the label of his juice and eyes somewhere else. Arthur remembered that it was a sign of sexual repression and had to hold back a laugh. If there was anyone who wasn’t repressed sexually, it was not Merlin.

“What’s so funny?” Leon interrupted. He was smiling, lightly, clearly eager to join in Arthur’s amusement.

“Nothing, Leon.” He mumbled. Merlin turned around to look at him. The glance made him shake. It was like Merlin knew everything Arthur had ever thought, that he knew every weirdness, badness, glory or nobility at once. Then he looked off again.

Merlin was so agitated, it made Arthur want to snap. He was shaking, glancing round, stuttering the few words he spoke and biting at his lip. At a loud noise, he bit down a little too hard and raised blood. Arthur worried about himself, when he still though Merlin looked gorgeous.

Merlin’s phone rang, and he sprang up from the table so quickly the drink’s wobbled. Arthur sprang for his beer protectively.

Once Merlin had left, Arthur allowed himself to fall back in to the conversation again.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he noticed Merlin wander outside, phone pressed to his ear. He watched Merlin go surprisingly paler; seemingly yell at whoever was on the line before taking off away from the pub.

***

Gwen loved Greece. She loved the golden sands, lapping tides, tanned skin, delicious food and cheap drink. She loved being able to entirely let go with her friends, have one last blow out before they all had to settle for exams.

She would have loved being with Lance, if he weren’t so occupied with his bit on the side. Which was what Morgana was now referring Merlin as.

Gwen had started to dislike Merlin a little less. She couldn’t say she understood him, or revelled in his company, but she saw him as less of a pantomime villain than before. But the way Lance seemed to lean on him co-dependantly really riled her.

The more she got to know Lance, the more she saw how much he really pestered Merlin. Merlin obviously liked Lance’s attention too, but she could tell he would like a longer leash.

It made Gwen stupidly jealous. It had taken a long enough time for her to get Lance, and she still didn’t even have him. It was like; Lance could squeeze her in around the Merlin shape in his thoughts. He was more like Merlin’s carer than friend.

So one night, when they were both a little tipsy and she could hide her thoughts behind champagne sips if need be, she told Lance. 

“Lance, sweetie, I feel like you’re not even on this holiday.” She’d said, when the two of them were alone in their room. He’d looked up from the text he’d been sending to Merlin looking confused.

“Why?”

“It’s that you’re spending so much time ignoring me!” She continued. “I’m pleased Merlin is alright, but you’re spending more time with him than the holiday.” She pouted. She flopped down on the bed and heard Lance sigh.

Within an hour, she had convinced him to give Merlin one more call before they set off, and to give Merlin a little peace.

***

“Hey Merlin.” Lance slurred. “So, you didn’t need to be such an ash- no, no an ash- ass!- when I called you earlier.” Lance was stumbling over his words. He was drunk and rushed, didn’t want Gwen to know he was speaking to Merlin again. He’d promised he’d only do two more phone calls.

The dial tone went, and Lance waited before he could leave another voice mail.

“Yeah, yeah I’m allowed I a giiiirl friend. You’re jealous because Gwen’s, Gwen’s prettier than a boy!” He warbled. No, that wasn’t right. He was mad at Merlin, but Merlin was madder at him, because he’d not asked something and Merlin needed to be asked. “You’re like a big kid!” Lance continued. That was true, but he didn’t have to say it.

Then, drunkenly, every bad little thought he had about Merlin over the years they’d been friends spilled out. Every irritancy, question and demand just slipped.

“- and I don’t know why you’re like this, cause you never s-say!” Lance zoned back in to hear himself. He sobered a little, enough to know he needed to say what he’d meant to and hang up. “Right, well, I’d just called to shay s-sorry. So. Sorry, M. I’ll call you the night we leave.”

He’d called Merlin earlier, to say he wouldn’t be able to contact him quite as much because he needed to spend time with Gwen. Then they’d started squabbling, over something stupid, like Merlin sounding resentful and Lance wanting to defend Gwen’s honour. Then Merlin said something acid, like he did drunk, but Lance knew he was sober. Something really vile and nasty. It hurt Lance, because he’d been there for Merlin for fucking years, and he deserved some kindness from his friend.

Then he’d wondered if they even were friends. He barely knew a thing about Merlin. Merlin made things so hard sometimes. Lance had accidentally said that… and Merlin became a hurricane. Before ignoring every other one of Lance’s calls.

They would just need time apart. They had spent almost every day for more than four years with each other; it was time for a break. They just needed space.

***

Lance woke up, head in agony and thoughts cloudy. Gwen was asleep beside him, nuzzling in to his arm. He grinned. He wished he could remember the night before, because Gwen looked so gorgeous he hated to lose any part of it.

***

By high school, Merlin had found out what the red eyed monster was. What his father was. What the friends were. What he was. It made him want to scream and bleed and cry. To burn and sting and break.

For a while he did, but it was never enough. Still he felt the layers of dirt, the layers of sin and the invisible bruises all over his flesh. So he started drugs, drinking, whatever it took until there was a blur between him and everything else. Like a bubble.

Which was why he hated Lance.

They’d technically ‘known’ each other since they were eight and nine, but seeing as Merlin was a bit of a loner and Lance was, not, they didn’t spend a lot of time together. And as Merlin began to find a way to chase a fog, keeping a veil between him and everyone else, Lance began to find ways to pierce and shift it.

So, when they were first placed together in class, Merlin could not stand Lance. He could not stand that Lance fought against the drugs, sex, alcohol, late nights- the little freedoms and escapes of Merlin’s life. Merlin couldn’t stand that Lance didn’t only not need them, but not see why Merlin did. He couldn’t stand that it seemed Lance’s mission to rid them from the world.

The one thing, the one thing Merlin really hated most about Lance was that he was he was so pure it made Merlin know he was covered in filth. That Lance didn’t even have to try to be something so wonderful, so good. That no matter how hard he fought, no matter how hard Merlin tried to clean himself, he was still tainted.

Then Lance had reminded him of sometime they’d first met, a time Merlin had forgotten. A time where Merlin had been good and brave. Things became easier after that.

Enough for Merlin to deem Lance a friend. Merlin felt like a fucking curse half the time, knowing he was holding Lance from whatever miracle he should be a part of. Until he noticed that Lance seemed to like Merlin’s company. Lance had the whole, ‘hero complex’ thing. Not in a nasty way, probably not on a conscious level. But he liked the responsibility.

Merlin hated being it, but years of being twisted and contorted in to what someone else wanted made him easy. He did what Lance needed him to do.

Then it got harder, so he got drunker. It got more confusing so he got higher. It took more effort so he got more fucked. Vicious cycle, never boring. Repetitive but easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and kudos appreciated :) Please remember to be kind as this has become a child of mine


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot managed italics as technology scares me. Merlin's notes are written in '___'

After Gwen told Arthur that Lance and Merlin had a fall out, Arthur decided to step in. He knew Lance deserved a break, so he figured he could give Merlin a shoulder to drunkenly sob on. Arthur took Lance’s phone, copied the number and sent off a text:

To: Merlin E.  
Hey, it’s Arthur. Call me if u need a chat.

It wasn’t raging poetry or entirely eloquent, but he figured it did the job. Once that was done, he allowed himself to fall back in to the cycle of a party island.

They were heading home the next day.

***

“Hey, Arthur, if you could call me back ASAP, it’s, uh, Merlin. Just, fuck, could you come to mine and help?” Lance hung up from Arthur’s voice mail. He screamed, and threw the phone across the room.

He’d started to remember what he’d done.

***

Merlin never really went back to Ealdor that often.

It shouldn’t scare him, it sure as hell didn’t scare him when he was younger and had the right to be scared. But when he was younger, he understood it. He knew where to go and what to get when he was a mess, which road to take and how long to take it. He knew that all on instinct.

He only knew it by memory now. He couldn’t just *feel* each way like an additional pulse, and it scared him.

The men who used to touch him, now surrounded by grandchildren scared him. The DVD shop that once had one of his videos scared him, even though it had been shut down years ago. The alleys he’d drop to his knees for faceless partners made him think of a scared child.

Merlin looked back on his past like a story. Sometimes, he wondered if he’d only read the stories in a book, or heard them in a film, or watched them in a play. But then he’d feel the prickling of sin along his skin and could no longer deny what had made him.

Merlin loved train journeys. He loved to watch the landscape fly by in a flash of a hundred colours, watch darkness seep the sky to midnight, watch the water gleam and glow as he got closer. He was going to Ealdor, going home where he belonged, really.

He’s managed to sit his exam early, passed by some bloody miracle. He’d done, the one promise in his whole entire life he’d made, he’d made and knew all it meant, he’d done it.

Little to do, now. He almost didn’t want to do it.

***

Lance was a complete wreck by the time Arthur had come round.

“I can’t, Jesus, Arthur!” Lance yelled. He was pacing up and down, hair a bird’s nest and eyes wide. “I don’t even, what the hell did I even say? Gwen didn’t tell me I said anything, anything this bad! To make him fucking run off!”

“Lance.” Arthur replied, voice like a balm. “Merlin will just come back, he just-”

“He’s been away for more than two weeks!” Lance shot back. “He’s paid up, he’s left a god damn little note, Jesus, what if he’s gone to…” Lance paled. Arthur guessed Lance was thinking of suicide, but there was no way Merlin would do that.

“Well, has he taken anything?” Arthur replied, lowly. He had to keep Lance calm. Lance bit his lip. “Have you checked his room?”

“No. He, he doesn’t like people to go in.” Lance whimpered, he was biting his lip.

“Well, too bloody bad.” Before Lance could stop him, Arthur began to walk in to Merlin’s room.

***

Merlin stepped off the train on to the cold track. Flaky paint, rotten wood, billowing shadows. Home. Ealdor.

He shrugged the light bag on his shoulders. Breathed in the air. Started to walk, then decided to run. Damn, it was oddly easy here, everything was a little clearer. He hated it. He didn’t stop.

It was too early to wait and see if an old companion is there. There were still wisps of sunlight in the purple sky. There were still happy families around with friends, still teenagers out getting drunk for a laugh. The times Merlin would meet Kilgar were times they were the only two outsiders in the entire world.

So Merlin did something so, so stupid. So agonising, before he’d even done it he knew how it will feel. Like boiling iron down his throat. Like acid through his veins.

For the first time in his life, he ran ‘home.’

***

Arthur was surprised by Merlin’s room.

He expected mess, clutter, scrabbled notes or dirty plates. He expected bold colours, clashing wrecks and a blur of things to look at. Signs of excitement, life, Merlin.

Merlin’s room was not like that.

It was… stark. The walls were bland grey, the colour when they moved in. There were only three pictures up, two drawn by Merlin and one Arthur had no clue about.

One was a mass of dark scratches. The longer Arthur looked at it, the more he saw. A contorted, twisted shape, like a demon or a ghoul. Then, something slapped Arthur- these red eyes. He hadn’t seen them, but the longer he looked the more they seemed to glow, until they were all he saw. He had to look away.

Arthur turned around, and saw Lance’s hand shaking over an envelope. Lance’s name was printed on it with a messy scrawl.

There were more on the bed, each with a name printed.

Leon. Morgana. Gwen. Arthur.

***

The street was still the same. Merlin walked along, avoided the same cracks, waved to the same neighbours and looked up to the same filthy sky.

Then he got to his first destination.

The house had been left to rot. It felt fitting to Merlin. A metaphor incarnate, of sorts.

He stood at the gate, for a bit. He let the rusted metal rub against the flesh of his palms. Casted his gaze along to the rotten curls of plants. He opened the gate, repelled by the agonizing ‘creak’ that gave a hint of needed repair work.

The rocky path to the house was riddled with leaves and dirt. The paint on the red door was peeling and crackly. The windows were thick with dust, and Merlin could tell they’re too warped to open and close. One of them was smashed open. The lights were off, except the porch light which continued to flicker, on and off in a broken symphony.

But he still felt it. He felt it like a shadow over his skin, or a cold gust in a warm sky. He could still feel the bastard in there. Sitting, decaying like the cave of a house.

The word closure bounced round his head. Doctors always wanted him to get ‘closure’ even when they didn’t know what he needed to close. Merlin had closed it, sealed it in a box, crammed it down in the back of his mind and swallowed the key to keep it close. Closure was ridiculous, he couldn’t close a thing.

He needed to just… stop. For the first time he could remember, he crushed down the swirl of theories and thoughts in his head by will power alone.

He didn’t know what he needed, or what he wanted. He just knew what he had to do, right there, right in that moment he’d chosen. He had to go in, to say something, anything, even if it was goodbye. Not because his father deserved it, but because Merlin did.

He threw himself in to the door without trying to worry the handle. He knew he’d do this with all he had or not at all.

***

Arthur watched Lance thumb over the envelope with his name for twenty minutes without opening his own. His hands were shaking too much; he couldn’t open the papery sentence even if he wanted to.

Because, this was something suicidal people did. This was something depressed people did. This was… This was something that could mean Merlin was dead.

“Open it.” He ordered Lance. Lance seemed a little reluctant, but he managed to rip it open.

With an anxious face, Lance began to read. A hurricane of emotions fluttered on his face, none of them positive.

“What is it?” Arthur couldn’t stop himself from snapping. Lance could barely even flinch.

“Read yours first.”

***

Merlin walked around the house, drowning in the smell of dank and mould. He followed the sound of a static TV.

Merlin didn’t feel nervous. He would have thought he would, if he’d ever allowed himself to think of coming here. 

“Hello.” He whispered. He shouldered through the door without allowing himself to stop. He couldn’t stop; he’d go hurtling a hundred miles away and miss his chance.

The man, who was so clearly his dad under the layers of grime and beard, looked up from the broken television with a grunt cry.

“Who the hell are you?” Merlin remembered his name was Agravaine, grunted. “Wait, I know you.” Merlin laughed a little. Agravaine didn’t know a damn thing.

“You do.” Merlin confirmed.

“Have we… uh, worked together?” With a crude gesture, Agravaine thrust forward and stuck his tongue out. It made Merlin want to vomit.

“We have.” Merlin replied with a stiff nod. Agravaine smirked, and then flicked his wrist to tell Merlin to come in. He didn’t.

“Ah, no offence, you seem a bit… young?”

“That’s how you like them, isn’t it?” The words fell like a poison, and Agravaine cringed.

“Aye, but you’ve obviously fucked the one then, haven’t you?” Agravaine argued back. “Standing there, looking down.” Merlin realized he was both hung over and drunk. “You probably had your prick inside the kids arse, haven’t you?” Then he smirked. “Well, he pissed off out of here. There’s always me, I’ve been looking for a fuck. There’s a camera somewhere.” He rolled his hand towards a cluttered mess of food wrappers and crap.

“I would rather shove my dick in to a bear trap.”

“Aye alright mate. I get that I’m not the cock of the walk or anything, but there’s cash in it for ya.” Agravaine didn’t stand up, but his eyes turned to meet Merlin’s. Recognition seemed to flicker in them. “Who the fuck did you say you were, again?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then do.” Agravaine snapped, standing up and looking anxious. He had a pot belly, wife beater vest stained with sweat and food. Merlin wondered what he was like before his curse of a son.

“You know, most parents read their kids these fluffy little stories. Talking animals and all that crap. They keep their children out of all that darkness, all that evil, until it’s too late and the world grinds it in to them. I can’t decide if I’m lucky or not that you gave me those books filled with all those evils, badness, darkness and sin that you were too. I’m not sure if I’m happy or not that I got that to prepare me.”

Merlin stopped, cracking off part of the door and crumbling it between his fingers.

“What are you talking about?” Agravaine whimpered.

“See, I know you can remember. You get all twitchy when you think of the things you do, the bad things- bloody all of them. I remember you’d be like that, the day after. But so god damn relaxed, too. Great way to make cash, blow off steam. Shoved your problems out to sea, for a bit, but then the tides would change and they’d come sailing back.” Merlin continued.

“I- what the fuck kind of game are you playing?” Agravaine tried to walk closer, but he was too drunk and began to stumble. 

“Yeah, you can remember. I see it.”

“You’re a fucked- a fucked up little kid. You know that?” Agravaine slurred. He fell on to his chair.

“I do.” Merlin nodded. “Guess who made me that way? Remember, remember how you did it? Not even all the, all the fucking.” That’s all it was. “Not the taping, touching, grabbing. That helped, that fucking did it too. But not just that. All the lies, all the tricks, all the games… and you just not caring. That’ll do it.” Merlin knew there was too much to talk about, to go in to, and to nail Agravaine for. It didn’t really matter.

“You, that’s not…” Then Agravaine’s face broke out in to realization. “Merlin? Kiddo?” Agravaine’s voice was a mixture of a groan and sob. “You… left. I thought you’d died.”

“I guess it’s good, too.” Merlin continued, relentless. “Good that I can look back on what a sack of shit you are, and know that no matter what I do, I will never be the biggest mistake on Earth.”

***

Arthur felt icy hot vomit along his throat.

‘Dear Arthur’ The letter began, and Arthur found the formality odd

‘or however you start a letter’ and that sounded more like Merlin

‘I suppose it’s odd to write this, but I felt it fitting, anyway. So, I wanted to say thanks. For getting over the hurricane of scandal around me. For ignoring the rain spells in our every day. For giving me something feathery and wispy. Something pure. Bloody hard to hold on to, bloody hard to understand. Best things are. You’re pretty incredible under the arse hole façade. Thanks. Hope I can repay you- but don’t get your hopes up. I’m really crap at promises.’

Arthur didn’t understand. This, people didn’t do this. Merlin was meant to be on a holiday. Not, this sounded terrifying. Permanent. What the fuck was he doing?

He wanted to find Merlin, now. This was stupid. Merlin wouldn’t do this. People didn’t do this! The letter didn’t say goodbye, so Arthur wondered why it felt like it.

Without remembering he’d done it, he’d invited the other letter owners to come. He’d called Merlin a hundred times and found the phone under the couch. Arthur’s message hadn’t been open.

Lance had thrown on his coat, charged around the city and come back shivering.

When they all arrived, Arthur shoved the messages in their hands and took off.

***

‘To Leon. You never saw me as much, to you I never was. But don’t feel bad, I say this without cruelty, but you weren’t a lot to me, either. Leaf on a tree, brilliant and important, but there are a lot of you. You didn’t like me because someone told you not to. I didn’t like you because you didn’t like me. We’re fucking clichés. Don’t feel bad, or good about me. Cheers.’

Leon was insulted, wounded, and shocked at the letter. He didn’t get it. He was never, never cruel to Merlin. Distant, but not, blatant. But he supposed that was what the letter meant. He hoped the past tense didn’t mean what it seemed to.

***

‘To Gwen. I don’t know if I want you to take care of Lance, because I don’t know if I can trust you. We both flaunted ourselves to get what we wanted, I wanted a release and you wanted Lance. Lance is basically inhuman in his perfection. So, I don’t know, I got to enjoy that and I hope you do to. He has a habit of taking out goodness in people, he did to me. There’s a reason this letter is all about you in relation to him, it’s all you made yourself. I’m sure you know what you did to him by doing to me. Please be better for him.’

Gwen shrieked. He yelled at Lance and he sat back. She asked for help for Morgana, but she’d gone. She needed something, because this was not what she was. Why the hell did Merlin get to leave, with this sweeping false impression? It was insane, hideous; she wasn’t this harpy unworthy of Lance that he’d made her-

As she ripped the letter, she realized that’s what she’d made him.

***

Morgana didn’t open her letter, not at first. Not as she saw everything those clutter of words had done to her friends. She was the one Merlin liked least, hers would be the nastiest, the pettiest, most unfair.

She wondered why her heartbeat thrummed through her skeleton.

She stormed up to her flat. She wasn’t sure why she wanted the privacy so badly, but damn it she did.

It started:

‘To Morgana. Would you care if I told you how many crocodiles died for your shoes? How many hours of slave labour made your furniture? Would it change your world if you looked for the ugly reasons things became what they did? Of all the nasty things in the world that you yourself condone, whether you mean to or not.’

Morgana didn’t want to understand like she did.

‘If I had a star for every time you shred the happiness I needed, my night’s would never be dark. Constellation dreams. I want to tell you, but I am not evil. I don’t want to have the searing pain of knowing the depths of what you did to me at your neck in every step. But, it will stop you from doing it again. Only way to get this out is to blurt it on paper- I was molested, and filmed as a kid. You can draw your own conclusions from there, can’t you? As evil as you thought I was, reflected in you. Nasty, isn’t it?’

She dropped the letter. Merlin was lying, he had to be lying. He, he couldn’t-

It made sense.

It didn’t. Morgana was perceptive, kind. She always gave money to charity, went to the balls. She volunteered in a soup kitchen.

No. No, this was not right. The world didn’t, didn’t do this. Morgana wasn’t evil. She was harsh, made quick decisions so she could survive and thrive. It was necessary, instinct. She wasn’t wrong.

Then she wondered. Merlin flinched when touched so often. He was secluded and quiet. A loner. He, he seemed so hurt. So twisted. But, that was because he was a spoiled kid. Jealous, he didn’t have the handle on the world they did.

She’d never thought why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is ok? Don't want to let you guys down!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, wanted to say quick sorry as I didn't have time to properly edit this tonight, but felt bad not updating in while
> 
> And I am an idiot and accidentally typed 'aredian' instead of 'Agravaine,' i have tried to fix it but feel free to alert me my mistakes or skim over them

Merlin watched with splinters in his fingers as Agravaine squirmed. Merlin wondered if he was about to be reprimanded, what his father could do to him that he hadn’t done to himself to change his behaviour. There was little.

“Don’t, don’t speak to me like that.” Agravaine’s voice lacked conviction. Merlin’s face curled, god the man was pathetic. “Son’s shouldn’t speak to your father like that.”

“I don’t think you and I fit the normal father son demographic.” Merlin responded. “You still make the videos?”

“Shut the fuck up, Merlin.” Agravaine shouted. “I did what I had to do, all right? Did you want to fucking starve?”

“I tried to.” Merlin replied. He didn’t eat if he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t eat because sometimes there was nothing that wasn’t rotten. There was enough decay in him.

“You have no god damn clue how hard life is!”

“You gave me that very early on.” Merlin said back, tired. Merlin had not left his spot by the door, but Agravaine had managed to heave himself off the couch and lumber over towards him.

“I’m not here to talk about your ethics.” Merlin explained. He wasn’t; his being a good person and his dad being a good person were not important issues any more. “But I think I have my answer. You still making those god damn videos?”

“Not, with kids.” But Agravaine’s tone was uncertain. “Not usually.”

 

***

 

Lance repeated the mantra of what his response to Merlin said when they were younger in his head. Idiot, Lance was so bloody stupid. Idiot, blind, stupid. He’d never even realized.

Merlin didn’t hate him, he should and he didn’t. Lance hated himself, why shouldn’t Merlin hate him? Jesus, what if that was it, if Merlin had taken off for some stupid blue horizon and never came back?

Lance couldn’t even think, ‘oh he wouldn’t’ because it had become painfully clear Lance hadn’t taken the time to see why Merlin was that way. He’d barely tried, really. Made a guess and went with it.

Lance had thought Merlin was like this because his mother had died. Not, not because Merlin had such a monstrous childhood.

‘Lance, I have to tell you this so you really know, because I was a shit friend and never let you know. I am so sorry.’ The letter had scribed. He could see Merlin had rewritten in countless times, scratching out the sentences beyond recognition. Then it was written there, plain as day, as Lance should have seen it.

‘So, remember when we were like, ten? And I wrote that story about the kid whose super power was to be with grownups on a camera? And someone snatched it away from me, and called it porn. And the teacher got so angry, and said ‘what sick little monster comes up with this?’ Well Lance, the answer is- a kid who didn’t ‘come up with it,’ but a kid who’s been through it.’ And Lance didn’t believe it. He’d re-read it, re-read the entire letter, and it was there in black and white.

Then Merlin had told Lance he had to go, somewhere. He didn’t say where, or what for, but only why.

‘I am covered in these, I called them handprints. They’re blotches, really, gathering bruises of sin- invisible to people who don’t deserve to see them.’ Merlin had written. Lance hadn’t realized Merlin was that self-loathing, that hurt. In that much pain. ‘And I have felt them every god damn time I’m only running on my own steam. I think I know why, sometimes, but I’ve never had the- balls, mind, strength, anything- to do it. I need to now.’

The last bit, last few words, they’d cut Lance deeper than a sword.

‘Because you’re you, you’ll feel guilty. Don’t. You were right; I need to let you handle your things. I didn’t mean to take so much, fuck I’m sorry. There are so many things I owe you, damn it. I owe you for our friendship, your kindness, the ease you create. I owe you time, most of all, it’s the thing I would love to give back. And the one thing I can’t give. I promise, though, I’m doing what I can to make more of it.’

‘Fuck, Lance. It’s a mess. I’m a mess. I’ll do what I can, to sort it.’

It was not Merlin’s job to sort things like these.

***

For the first time, a rage stabbed through Merlin. He wasn’t the only kid. Other kids, they didn’t deserve it. He did, he was tainted and impure and evil. No one else was, not like him. Other kids did not deserve this.

He felt the anger gut him, almost doubled over with it.

“Still with kids.” He repeated. He waited for his dad to confirm. The fleeting gaze showed it. “You know it’s fucking evil, don’t you.”

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to.”

Merlin flew from the door then, knocking his dad on to a wall with a large creak and thud. The other man smelt of sweat and alcohol.

“Shut the hell up!” Merlin yelled. He had lost his cool. The feeling of perpetual numbness, distance from reality had splintered. It had been worn, burned, torn until the full face of the real world was all he could see. “I didn’t get to live in some shitty excuse, why should you?”

“Merlin, you know why you had to do it for me. It was your fault.” Agravaine whimpered.

When Merlin tried to sleep at night, after the first few times, he was a mess. He would quiver and sob until the neighbours called. He would never sleep in the house, not where the monsters lurked. He would drop off at school, on a desk, playground, bathroom, and be awoken by nightmares vicious enough to birth screams.

He asked his dad, one night, why. Why did Merlin have to do it? Why did his dad make him?

‘Because, Merlin.’ His dad had replied, both anxious and tired. ‘When you were born, you took your mummy out of the world. You need to show you’re sorry, for that. You need to show me you’re sorry, make it up to me.’

Merlin would sob how ‘he didn’t mean to’ as though it mattered. As though it made a difference if people ‘meant’ to be evil or not. It was the result people judged, in the end. It was the result that led the world.

“It isn’t me I’m angry for!” Merlin spat. He crushed Agravaine in to the wall, one arm across his windpipe until the old man’s eyes bulged. “Other kids! Other fucking children! What did they do? They weren’t evil!”

“It’s not about-” But Agravaine stopped, realizing he couldn’t reveal what he was about to say. He gestured for Merlin to loosen off him a little, and Merlin decided to oblige. “You… left.” Agravaine said slowly, as if he were trying to pick the words. “And when you did, I needed someone else.”

***

Arthur sat down with Lance.

“Merlin’s not dead.” The blond ordered. As if saying it would summon that reality. “Lance, none of these say he’s not coming back.” As if that meant a god damn thing.

Lance didn’t say anything. His own letter was still rumpled in his hands; he wouldn’t allow Arthur to read it. He’d barely said a thing, done barely a thing since reading it.

“Where would he have gone?” Arthur felt hopeless as he spoke. It had been a day, not another fucking word from Merlin. They’d scowered his room, found drawings, notes, hinting at what Merlin felt and had needed, but Arthur had no conclusive proof. He needed to see his friend.

“He said there was something he had to do.” Lance’s voice was hoarse from lack of use.

“Lance, mate, if you know what happened, please, please tell me. I need to help him.”

It seared Arthur’s throat like a cold wind. He owed Merlin more than he realized, needed him more than he noticed, enjoyed him more than he’d seen. It wasn’t even for himself, there were so few people like Merlin. People who were good. It may not seem like that to others, but Arthur knew it.

Merlin wasn’t obvious in his gestures, like Lance. He wasn’t in to big, over blown gestures like Arthur. Merlin gave his change to a charity bucket when he didn’t have any. He made himself late to class to help stray pets reach a vet. He sat with Arthur when Arthur felt like the stress of the world would choke him, sat and listened or comforted without complaint. He put others first, he was never cruel. Arthur wondered why he’d never noticed it, until it wasn’t there.

By the way Lance’s face changed, Arthur could tell he knew what had happened.

***

Dark sky to match his thoughts, cold air to match his heart, lonely streets to match his mood, Merlin left Agravaine’s. He walked surprisingly lightly, not rushing or dawdling.

He had been afraid of a shadow of something that shouldn’t exist. A quivering mass. If Merlin was a mistake, it was because he was the son of one.

The air was a frozen blanket on his flesh, the wind a whistling song for his ears, the dark a shade of peace from the world.

It had been easy, in reality. It had taken less than Merlin thought.

When he’d shoved himself away from Agravaine, the man had fallen.

Merlin thought of heroes and monsters. He thought of how the hero always killed the monster. That the hero always plunged the sword in, bled the life out of whatever evil had crossed them. In his childhood stories, the hero always made sure the villain was left a corpse.

When Agravaine had convulsed on the floor, Merlin had stepped away.

Merlin thought of the nobility in sparing a life. How sometimes, the hero had to sacrifice revenge and let the villain live. He thought of how the world needed badness. Without darkness, the world would be blinded by light. He thought of how it was sometimes wiser to spare a life then take it.

When it became clear Agravaine was having a heart attack, Merlin left the room.

He thought of how people died. How their bodies crumbled to dust and their words stopped. He thought of how they still effected the earth, how they had still lived and breathed and made an impact. He thought of the other, the innocent, children Agravaine probably hurt.

When it was obvious Agravaine would die, Merlin called an ambulance.

Merlin thought of how Agravaine’s death wouldn’t be enough. How he was a link in a chain, how his capture could lead to so many more. Merlin made sure to root out the camera’s, tapes, magazines and any other evidence before piling them around his dad. He thought of how this could lead to ruining lives. Of people like his dad.

After all, Merlin was no hero.

He left the house, jittery but not with sadness.

Merlin thought of the night he needed here. He had not thought of what would come after it, because he did not imagine anything would, at first. Not in a dark way, but this was Merlin’s summit. The descent paled in comparison to the climb.

He made his way to the liquor store and DVD cross road.

It was different to walk. The path felt entirely different when he wasn’t watching it shoot by like a falling star.

Once he’d arrived, it was the same again. He slunk in to the shop, still needed to use an ID but this time it was a real one. He still bought cheap, crappy vodka and began to drink it alone on the step.

He knew there was so little chance of Kilgar tipping up. He knew it was so unlikely the man had even lived all this time. He knew he may have lost the one person he felt was a kindred spirit.

But this spot seemed better than any other to wait out the night.

***

“Lance, tell me. Please. Or at least let me help!” Arthur shouted. He followed Lance round the small flat, watching him pack and hearing him mutter, but unable to help. “Lance!” At Arthur’s yelp, Lance tumbled back to reality.

“He’ll have gone back home. He’s going to do something stupid, run around the town and burn all the wicked. This is Merlin; he’s so stupid for being such a genius. He still doesn’t think he needs help!” Lance rambled, looking at Arthur. Arthur had no clue how to respond, in all honesty.

After shoving some things in to a make shift bag, Lance turned to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” Arthur called to Lance’s receding back.

“Ealdor!” His friend shot back without stopping.

Arthur didn’t even think. He didn’t think of the school he might miss, the people he needed to see, what he should pack.

“So am I!” He shouted to his friend, taking off after him immediately.

***

The figure loped towards Merlin like something for a nightmare. He shuffled, clothes looking tattered and skin flaking, like a villain in a child’s dream.

Merlin stood up to meet him, wondering if the old man would recognise him, remember him, even.

From the smile that broke out on his face, it was clear he did.

“Merlin!” His voice was raspier than Merlin remembered, but he did remember it. Kilgar made sweeping gestures to rid Merlin from helping him to the step. As he landed, he grabbed hold of Merlin’s vodka and began to drink.

“I know we’re friends, but you could still ask.” Merlin laughed, smiling fondly. He sat beside Kilgar, who sadly smelt as bad as he looked. “Have I been sending you money for nothing?” He continued, cheekily. Kilgar just laughed.

“Any cash that I don’t blow on food goes to my niece.” He sighed. Kilgar returned to the rim of the bottle, lips clasping and throat working.

“I’m sure you managed to spare some for whatever vice’s you’ve picked up.” Merlin retorted, feeling himself relax in the company of his friend.

“It’s been hell since you left, kid.” Kilgar replied, shaking his head. “Most people don’t enjoy my company like you do, and they certainly don’t enjoy sharing. I’ve been largely sober. Terrible thing.”

Merlin didn’t say a word. He knew it was terrible to be stuck in a reality you couldn’t face.

“Can’t believe you’re here.” Merlin breathed. He watched as Kilgar finally took a break from the bottle, and looked to the sky.

“There was something about tonight.” The old man smiled. “Felt it, deep in my bones, I felt it.”

Merlin decided not to respond.

He and Kilgar sat in the amicable silence Merlin loved all those years ago. He still loved it now. He felt himself breathe, didn’t notice the constant thrumming of his skin.

For Merlin, home was not a place. It was a state. Oddly, one he didn’t really belong to, or identify himself to. But home was this, the feeling of ease, the lack of thoughts and the night sky melodies in his mind. Home was to feel your own soul, and not the tainted flesh surrounding it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so people know, I am either thinking of ending the story within 6 more chapters or going on a lengthy adventure, and now is deciding time to I would love your opinions
> 
> as always, comments and kudos appreciated, but please remember to be kind as i am a gentle soul


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it has been so long since I updated and this isnt very long. But I am back at school and have an exam every day and I hurt my ankle and there was a concert (bastille, swiss lips and dan kroll, my sin my soul) so I have not had much time to write.
> 
> And I am terrible at getting excited for a billion stories at once so I have like six starters to new stories on my laptop that are new and exciting and I am so fickle
> 
> But I hope this is OK anyway!

Arthur was not surprised Lance and Merlin had come from two opposite sides of the same town.

The way they entered was Lance’s side. Monotonous streets, manicured gardens, photo stock smiling families having barbeques even as night fell. Lance didn’t say anything, but Arthur caught him sending a sneaky glance towards his own house. 

The radio was humming a song about sex, drugs or alcohol to a peppy tune. The notes turned sour in Arthur’s mouth as he hummed along.

They continued on through the painfully adequate streets, not stopping to visit anyone. Doll houses, they reminded Arthur of. Something so picturesque it could have come from a 1950s good housekeeping.

The change of class was gradual. The streets evolved, warped and shrank, until the roads went from crescents and cul-de-sacs to a check board with busy roads in a blink. The mowed, lavish grass turned to crumbling pavements and the two floors Barbie cottages morphed in to high rise flats and crumbling studio apartments. There were fewer of them, 

They drove on, the radio station had long since lost signal and began to crackle but neither could move to change it.

This town made him think of cliché American movies, the derelict streets, broken windows and women who were obviously hookers. Arthur wondered if this was how the world looked, or if he was allowing himself the streak of macabre thoughts instead of missing Merlin.

“I, I never went to his house.” Lance confessed. “See, he said he lived, he said he lived in the farm part? I looked it up, one day, and there are no farms round here. But a mate, a kid we knew, he lived round here, same street as M. We can go there.” Lance didn’t remove his hands from the wheel or his eyes from the road, but his teeth jabbed in to his lips and his shoulders tensed.

Despite the feeling of comfort Arthur should have gotten from their being a plan, all he could feel was unease in his stomach.

***

Merlin sat with Kilgar for a long time. He sat until the coldness of the roadside seeped in through his body, jarring his bones and chattering his teeth. He forced himself to totter on the edge of sobriety, not wallowing in the cheap vodka perched beside him. Not tonight.

“I’m dying.” Kilgar said. He said it without sadness, without malice or anger. He spoke it as one would speak of a straying cloud or a tired state.

Merlin, though, could not feel so comatose. He knew, he knew even the first time he’d met Kilgar the old man walked with a ticking clock strapped to his head. It made sense the numbers would one day run out and fade.

It did not make it any easier.

“You’re quiet.” Kilgar noted, sad smile etched in to the wrinkles of his face. “Did you think I would live forever?”

“I didn’t think forever would come.”

Merlin didn’t exactly plan to kill himself, or even to die. He just never imagined time stretching this agonisingly far. He supposed he’d forced himself to fall in to a rut, creating a life where things were changing and he was not. Reminders that life continued and went on no matter how hard he fought otherwise were not welcome.

“What’s the next adventure?” Kilgar asked. Merlin wondered if he really wanted an answer.

They didn’t use to talk, all that much. Merlin had nothing to really say. He was different, now, but he still felt as transparent as he had then.

“I don’t know.” Merlin replied, monotonously. Did he still have to be so painfully present? He had spent so many years in desperate search of a way to remove himself from the real world. He had spent so, so much time trying to be anything but aware. It didn’t matter, in the end, the world would move on.

He would either need to move on to, or leave it.

***

Morgana reread the letter. She was disappointed to learn the words didn’t change after reading a hundred times, after 3am, after another glass of wine.

She hadn’t changed, either. She still wished it were a lie harder than she wished she hadn’t read it. She still wanted to see Merlin as something useless and causeless. She still wanted to be sat on her throne above the others.

She hadn’t changed, even if she felt it. Because this was true and that made her someone vile. Someone spiteful and cruel, someone she was always accused of being. She wasn’t the strong, independent woman who she believed was called ‘bitch’ out of spite and jealousy. She was named that, because she deserved it.

 

***

“Did you spike this whilst I wasn’t looking?” Merlin asked, shocked as he tilted the bottle towards Kilgar.

“No, think I’d waste the good stuff on you?” Kilgar laughed. The chuckle turned to painful sounding coughs.

Merlin felt a hot shiver snap through him. Lance’s car had ridden past. Lance, fuck Lance was here and he was going to…

What?

Yell? Get angry? Would he even care that much? Would he yell at Merlin for leaving him like that? For worrying him, Merlin doubted. Merlin was not the kind of person needed. Needed rid of, maybe.

He held his breath, but the car kept driving. No one in their right of mind came here by choice. 

For a moment, Merlin wanted to run after the car and to talk to Lance. To get down on his knees and atone his sins face to face and deal with that. Not hide behind a letter and fade off to whatever waited, but to be punished by hatred as he deserved.

Merlin wanted to slink off in to the night and ride a train to a place that didn’t exist. To disappear forever. To have never been born, made. To never have been such a blip on the face of history. He wanted to vanish.

To compromise, he did neither.

“You need a plan.” Kilgar decided. “I’d like to think I’ll leave the world and not have to worry about you wherever I end up.”

“You’re a true soul.”

“I’m serious. You want to end up like me?” Kilgar gave a harsh laugh and coughed. “Because if you do that I will come all the way up from hell and drag you down there myself.”

Merlin would not need to be dragged.

“You made me a promise, a long time ago, and you kept it. You make one now. Last wish, dying man’s last request and all that crap. You find something, someone, who makes you happy. That makes you not need all this crap.”

Merlin wanted to. He wasn’t sure which was worse, though, to deny the last requests of an old friend or to make a promise you cannot keep.

There was no one on this earth who could make Merlin happy, because he couldn’t do it himself. He hated the messages that were churned out by books and TV and people, that if you found someone to love you it would fix you. They mocked him.

Because that was not how the world should, or did, work. People had to fix themselves or they’d become entirely reliant on someone else. People were not permanent, they would change or leave or both and you would end up worse than you were before. And Merlin hated how people always thought they were the holy one sent from God. The one who could unwind all his problems better than he could himself.  
***  
Arthur wasn’t sure how long it would take them to find Merlin. Ealdor wasn’t large, not in comparison to Camelot, but Merlin would not be found if he didn’t want to be.

Lance had texted an old friend, Will, and they had been given Merlin’s old address. It seemed as good a place as any.

“He’ll be fine.” Arthur said, uncertain. The further they’d driven, the closer they got to Ealdor, the calmer Lance seemed. His anxiety had sobered of a little, and he seemed more normal again.

“Yeah. Yeah, god definitely.” Lance replied, breaths huffy and almost laughing. “I was thinking about it, right, and Merlin doesn’t give up. I mean, he’s always there, always makes it. He wouldn’t do anything.”

Arthur smiled, but didn’t really say anything. Technically, he did not know Merlin as well as Lance did, but he had a different impression entirely. That Merlin was a bit more of a mess than he was letting on. Arthur didn’t think he would hurt himself, but he thought if Merlin wanted to go missing even the wind wouldn’t be able to tail him.

Merlin was something complex, odd. Arthur had noticed a few things whilst they were searching his room. He’d pocketed a notebook, small but each page had sentences written over and over each other until the pages were spider scrawl. Arthur could make a few things out, but it was clear Merlin had made this a code obvious only to himself.

But the few strands of things Arthur found legible were unhindered by an explanation. They were beautiful, lulling and eloquent, but there was something underneath them. Something that made the words hard to read and impossible to swallow, something that made Arthur want to curl up and never get up.

There was something that, the more he thought about it, became incredibly obvious. There was something very dark, very solitary about Merlin. Something Arthur hadn’t noticed until a spot light was shone on it.

“What did your letter say?” Lance whispered. He looked a little worried again, gnawing his lip.

“Just, uh, thanks for being a mate, really.” Arthur didn’t want to go too far in to it. The letter felt like something special, something Merlin had really only intended for him. He didn’t want to claw it open and thrust it in front of Lance. “What about yours?”

“Same.” Lance was a terrible liar.

“What the fuck!” Arthur shouted as a white van with shrieking sirens shot in front of them and Lance had to pull his breaks and swerve. “Jesus!”

As Lance swore, shaking and unable to drive for a few moments, Arthur took the chance to look around and scope the area. The houses looked more like slums or tenements than homes.

Then, Arthur saw the people leaving their homes and scuttling like ants, a long line wheedling down the street.

“What are they doing?” He asked. Lance shrugged, calmed down enough to start slowly driving. The people all hurried through a dark alley that was filled with flashing lights. “This place is so weird.” 

“I haven’t been here, the streets are so confusing.” Lance groaned. “What is going on?” He snapped.

Ahead of them an entire street was filled with blue and red flashing lights and colours.

“That’s Merlin’s street.” Lance summarised. “Are they having a block party or-”

It was then that they spotted the large ambulance perched outside a house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted you all to know, no matter how long this takes me it wont be left a WIP forever!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How on Earth did that long wait happen?
> 
> Ok, so this is arguable scratchy but I just felt awful going so long without an update
> 
> I hope it's alright!

Lance stopped the car, tyres screeching like Arthur’s thoughts, climbed out and began to run. Arthur just knew that had to be Merlin’s house.

His heart was beating a staccato rhythm in his chest. His legs were shaking so much he could barely move them, and he stumbled and lurched as he came out the car. 

He watched as the small, crumbling house that looked like a tenement was illuminated with green and red flashes of light. The ambulance Siren’s pierced his thoughts and he wondered if he would die. Right here, on the floor, his heart beating so quickly it would shatter his ribs and tear open his skin. Because Arthur’s heart was beating with more than anxiety.

It was hammering ever word he had never said to Merlin, so hard it robbed the air from his lungs, but he couldn’t stop. A macabre crowd had gathered around the outside of the house, chatting anxiously and feeding off the gossip from inside the tiny home. They were here for a show, and Arthur wanted to scream and thrash.

He ran up, having lost sight of Lance. He’d lost sight of everything that wasn’t the wide open door of the house. Merlin had grown up there, the house with the shattered window panes and the peeling carpet. With the long grass and rusty gate. Had it been like that when he was a child? Had it grown derelict in his absence, or had Merlin always been surrounded by its rot?

Had Arthur ever asked?

His hands were shaking so much they were just a blur, and he swore the bones in his fingers were turning to dust. The door was open, they were wheeling something- someone, out.

***

Merlin stood up; still imagining Kilgar had been sat beside him. The words were still ringing in his head and Merlin hated feeling like he was swarmed by a shadow.

‘Well, kid. What do you want?’

Merlin, honestly, didn’t even know. He knew what he needed, to stop or to hurl forward. He needed to be surrounded by people and left alone in the right measure. He needed to get some kind of bloody help that he would let work and that would actually work. He needed something tangible, something to clasp and feel. He needed something, anything. More, less.

‘You’ve spent all this time drifting, well even driftwood hits the shore.’

Merlin always thought in metaphors and riddles. His own clear thoughts were too brutal, too jagged. Cleaver jabs when he wanted a whisper. Thunder when he wanted drizzle. So he got that, that even in nature nothing simply floated from wave to wave forever. Nor should it.

But.

‘The future’s meant to be scary. All that destiny crap’s there so you think there’s something. And there is, you’re one of those bags of meat that’ll get something.’

God, Merlin didn’t know if he wanted that. Future. He’d come here with the intention of disappearing but he didn’t just get to do that. That wasn’t the way people, life, worked.

There was something, something he refused to acknowledge. Something with hair as gold as morning, and eyes as blue as redemption. Something, someone, Merlin did not deserve. Someone he would taint. Someone Merlin should not have become so close to, someone he would ruin.

***

Arthur didn’t even take a second to think about how incredibly inappropriate it was to yank up the white sheet over a body.

Or, how grossly inappropriate it was to give out a sigh of relief and say ‘Thank fuck!’ at knowing you didn’t know the person underneath it.

The police managed to tell him, though Arthur found it hard to even listen to the rant.

“Lance, we need to find him.” Arthur had snapped. “Get up, Lance, we can’t just sit here!”

Lance was hunched over, breathing hard and fists rubbing at his eyes.

“Lance?”

“Just. Fuck!”

Lance’s thoughts were whirring. Was it Merlin’s dad? Who took the sanity and sweetness of a childhood Merlin and bore it open to the world? Or was he just as messed up and hurt as Merlin? Did he know?

Being back here, Lance could only see trails of rot and corruption. Because someone, something had done this. It could be any bloody person and he had no clue. He was shaking, stupid amounts, and he wanted to throw up and curl up. He wanted to be gone; he wanted this to be a dream.

He wanted to see Merlin.

***

Lance had been shaking so violently that Arthur had to drag him to the car, and then drive him to his house. Lance had barely spoken the whole way, but Arthur had found he wasn’t in the mood for chatter anyway. He just needed to think for a bit.

He dropped Lance off at his home, politely declining any offer to go in. He needed to drive, to try and find Merlin.

Arthur was afraid he was being agonisingly selfish. It was so fucking obvious Merlin had come out here for some time to himself, if he was even here, but it was so odd. For Merlin to leave little notes behind, leave his phone, leave no details.

But he could not be dead. He could not have wanted to die. Merlin was a bit of a hurricane, a whirlpool, but he would not snuff himself out. He couldn’t.

Arthur was surprised to feel pain, real and tangible along his spine, at the thought of losing Merlin. More than he could donate to the simple loss of a friend.

When Arthur was younger, he’d learnt about the story of the red string. How, in China, they believed people could be connected by a string of red thread. It was believed they were destined to meet. The thread could tangle, stretch, knot but it would never break. At the time, he had thought it was cute. But there was something about it now that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

Destiny was large and scary. He didn’t want to face that as well, not tonight. He just wanted to find Merlin his… His Merlin. There wasn’t another name for it, not right now.

He pulled up outside a crappy shop. He dragged himself inside, looking for something caffeinated. He’d drive tonight. Tomorrow. Longer. It was so stupid, to say he’d dedicated his waking hours and more in his drop all plan to find Merlin.

He’d still do it.

Arthur bought a coffee and a bag of cookies, shuffling out in to the cold in the night. He wound his scarf tighter round his neck, absolutely frozen in the night. His teeth were chattering, and he’d been outside for a grand total of five seconds.

“Shit!” He swore, crashing in to someone. The other person didn’t say a word, but stepped back. The short man’s ragged beard and jumper were fine, but Arthur had spilt the scalding coffee down himself. The jacket was thick enough to keep him alright, but his hands were raw. “Bugger.”

The man lifted his dirty face up, and it struck Arthur that he must be homeless.

“Sorry, mate.” Arthur said. He could barely understand how the man was standing, he looked twisted like a vine and must be close to pneumonia. Arthur couldn’t just let him walk off. “I.. Uh. Think I spilt your coffee?”

“Sorry?” The man said, looking a bit surprised.

“The, drink?” Arthur tipped the cup a little. “Got spilt.”

“I didn’t buy.” The man looked up then, shook his head. “I didn’t buy that.” His voice was rasping, self-amused. He began to walk off, and there was something about that Arthur couldn’t stand.

“I’m assuming you’ll need another one.” The old man stopped. “I’ll get it, want one myself now.”

Which was how, ten minutes later, Arthur found himself leaving the shop with two coffees, a pair of gloves and a scarf. The old man hadn’t noticed, but Arthur was pretty sure he’d be able to pawn them off on him later. He looked like he’d keel over soon, if he didn’t get help.

“Cheers.” The man said, voice loosened by the heated drink. His smile was of rotten teeth.

“Where are you going?” Arthur couldn’t stop himself asking.

The old man looked around, in no particular direction.

“Somewhere else.”

“I… Uh. I don’t suppose you could give me a hand?” Arthur asked. Jesus, he had no idea how to do this without being a psychopath. “I’m trying to find someone-”

“Strip club’s a mile that way.”

“Someone specific!” Arthur yelped. “No, a friend of mine. And I have no clue where anything in this town is. So.” Arthur was trying his hardest to think of a way to say this without sounding like a serial killer. “I, look, I don’t suppose you’d be able to tell me where stuff is?”

“Like a guide?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The man heaved himself along with a nod. Arthur found it so odd he didn’t ask any other questions. He wondered how little this man had to risk if he could just follow strangers to cars.

“Are, are you sure?”

“If you’re willing to have a living corpse sat beside you for any duration of time,” The old man began. “Cleary the person you’re looking for is worth whatever trouble it takes me.” The man was wobbling along. “Come on then!”

***

A pale pink sun was rising, and Arthur was still in the car with the old man. For some reason, he didn’t dare ask his name.

“Right.” Arthur followed the man’s instruction. “Ok, last big destination in town.”

Getting out, Arthur scanned the entire football pitch. Under the bleachers, the changing rooms, dug out, parks, until his eyes were so tired and his feet were so numb he wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not.

He got back to the car, and didn’t consider how stupid it was to leave the stranger sat in there. Thankfully, all he’d done was help himself to a cookie, anyway.

“Fucking hell!” Arthur shouted, slamming his hands on to the wheel. The man didn’t even flinch. “This is so sodding useless! He could be anywhere! He might not even be *here.*”

Silence fell, and Arthur pressed himself against the leather of the wheel. His breaths were cold as they wormed out of him. They jarred his ribs, but he barely noticed. He was still cold, from the few minutes spent outside and the hours in his car. If Merlin had been outside, he’d have frozen to death.

“Why do you think he’s here?”

“A mate told me he would be.” Arthur hissed.

“How well do you know your… friend?” The old man asked. “Well enough to guess that driving round random large locations in a random small town won’t lead you to him?”

“Clearly not.” Arthur spat. “Didn’t see that shred of advice earlier, did we?”

“How was I supposed to hope then?” The man laughed. “I don’t know anything about your… friend.” The way he said friend was beginning to annoy Arthur. What right did he have to go snooping when Arthur wouldn’t allow himself to? “So tell me.”

“He…” Arthur ran ideas through his head. Each conclusion made him sound like a love struck girl in a low budget rom com. 

He’s a mess. Disaster waiting to happen. He’s a tsunami and Arthur wants to drown.

But there was a hell of a lot more there. That was surface stuff, collateral that everyone saw and picked at. Merlin’s hands were steady as rock beams when he fixed the butterfly. His voice was strong as wind when he protected Arthur from Cendred. Merlin was a bit, odd, but there was nothing weak. Nothing pathetic or sad in him.

He was the most intricate person Arthur knew. He was so full of contradictions that Arthur didn’t even know if he knew him. But he wanted to. And he wanted Merlin to know him. And he knew, most of all, that there was something incredibly special to know.

“He’s just… Merlin.”

Arthur was incredibly surprised to see the old man sit up in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made a tumblr account:
> 
> http://jeanshard.tumblr.com/
> 
> Just so if I don't post in a while people can go there and it will say why and what I'm in progress of doing. No worries if you cba, just if there's ever a few weeks of silence again
> 
> Password is jeanshard
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are given a loving home


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about that team! crazy busy, exams and all that jazz
> 
> shall do my best to keep updates rolling
> 
> apologies if this is sub par, i just needed to get something out again

Arthur had never felt this nervous in his life.

It was ridiculous, because this should not make him nervous like anything else did. It was not like his University interview and knowing his father would be furious if he didn’t get it. It was not like when Morgana was in the psychiatric ward and he didn’t know if she would love him anymore. It wasn’t like when he was about to get told off by a teacher as a child.

Somehow it was worse. Because those moments were life changing, altering him, but there was a safety net. Morgana was his sister, Uther his father, and they would always love some part of him, even if he never felt it. And a telling off was a big deal at the time, obviously, but it wasn’t…

Merlin.

Arthur walked along the frozen road, once again leaving the old man in his car. Which was probably a big risk, but if it was the right Merlin he had pointed out, then the man could have the car himself. But Arthur’s thoughts were too scattered to do much else but sprint and scatter up the gravel. It was freezing, and if the old man was telling the truth about Merlin, then he would need to get to a hospital.

It was only a few seconds Arthur had been out, and the cold had settled along his skin, stabbing to his bones, teeth beginning to chatter. If Merlin had been sat on the road side all night, he’d have hypothermia. Hell, Arthur felt on the edge of freezing his limbs off and he’d barely gone three minutes.

Anger shot through Arthur’s jittery nerves. He wanted to yell at Merlin, to slash and scream at him. Because Arthur had no idea at what the hell Merlin was doing. What the fuck as wrong Merlin, pissing off with some little note left behind, leaving himself to freeze and shatter in the cold. Arthur didn’t understand why Merlin threw himself into walls instead of opening any doors.

Because Merlin was this incredible thing, and he needed to see that.

“Merl-” Arthur began to call his friend’s name, but the sound died in his throat. He saw a curled up body, something that looked more like a pile of rags than a human. Arthur ran, slicing along the ground, breath’s forming icicles in front of his eyes.

‘Please.’ Arthur began begging, to no one in particular. ‘Please let Merlin be ok. Please, please let Merlin be alright. I swear to every God, I will never do a single stupid thing again, I will never be rude again.’ Arthur felt like a child, desperately praying to everything. ‘Please.’

“Merlin!” Arthur snapped. He shoved his hand over Merlin’s shoulder, pulled himself down until his eyes were level with Merlin’s. Ice blue, colder than usual, colder than the morning was. “Merlin, Merlin, please say you can hear me!”

Slowly, Merlin began to blink. His lips were tinged blue, and he was shivering so much his body was a constant blur. Arthur started trying to pull him up, but Merlin was too unstable on his own feet, a new born lamb, and he went limp.

“Merlin, come on. Stop pissing around.” Arthur ordered with far more confidence than he felt. He decided there was only one course of action, heaving Merlin over his shoulder.

“N-n-n…” Arthur could feel Merlin’s teeth chattering. “What’s, wh, happened? What’s happen-pen-pening?”

“You’re going to a hospital.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a sodding idiot who sat out in the freezing cold all night because he clearly wants me to turn insane or have a heart attack, most likely both, in one night.” Arthur heaved Merlin into the shotgun seat, not even noting that the old man had gone. “And we’re going to get you all fixed up, now.”

“Poi, point, pointless now, surely?” Merlin stammered. He curled up, probably planning on sleeping. Arthur knew he couldn’t let that happen. He knew a lot about human biology, knew Merlin would have become more and more confused and tired the colder he’d gotten. Arthur knew to keep him awake.

“What do you mean?” Arthur prompted. Keep him speaking, awake, keep him with you.

“I’m…dead?” Merlin replied, slowly. Like he had to break the news to Arthur himself. Arthur flinched, because he’d come close to it and that would have shattered everything. “That’s why you’re here.”

“I’m here, because you’re a total moron.” Arthur drove as quickly as he could, ignoring red lights and not noticing. The hospital was ten miles away. He had to get Merlin there as soon as possible. “Merlin, no Merlin you can’t go to sleep.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does!” Arthur shouted. Merlin was so zoned out he didn’t even flinch. He wanted to tell Merlin that everything about him mattered, but his throat wouldn’t let the words go.

It’s too much at once, Arthur thought. His friend’s life was bleeding out beside him, his friend was more than a friend, his heart was seizing up, his eyes were watering and the car was a hundred miles too slow. It was an agony, a thousand thoughts of Arthur’s all cramming themselves out at once, locking each other in, but they needed to get out.

“Merlin, talk to me. Come on, M.” The nick name fell out of his mouth easily. “We’ll talk, then we’ll get to the hospital and they’ll sort this out. Fix you up.”

Merlin shook his head, head lolling and looking at Arthur pityingly.

“I’m not the kind of broken you get to fix.”

***

Gwen was surprised when Lancelot showed up outside her flat. Happily surprised, she’d been worried sick about him and hadn’t heard from his for days.

“Hey.” She smiled, opening the door and hurrying him in to the warmth of her flat. “You look terrible, sweetie.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, but he barely responded.

If Merlin had ruined this fairy tale, she would be heartbroken.

“Gwen…” He started, sounding almost reluctant. His eyes were red, and he was stooped over. For a second, he even looked like Merlin. “I, I’m going away.”

She stopped, feeling the breath catch in her throat. Surely, surely he couldn’t be that mad at her. She hadn’t been warm and welcoming off Merlin, but she hated watching him leave Lance in tatters. She hadn’t chased Merlin out of town, he’d wandered off by himself.

“What?”

“Just, for two months. I’m volunteering in Africa. I need, I need to do something good.”

“What are you talking about?” She said, slowly. What on earth was Lance acting like this four? He looked as though he hadn’t slept in a few days, as though his world had tumbled in, and she wanted to know why, to glue it together again. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.” Lance whispered, already standing to go to the door. “I just, I need to do some good thing right now, cleanse.” 

‘We are something good,’ Gwen wanted to yell. We have spent more than a year waltzing round each other, it took me a year to feel your lips and hands and gaze on mine. We are something good.

“I don’t want you to wait for me.” He started walking to the door again. 

But she didn’t say a word. If Lance was going to do this, to shatter her heart under the pretence of being a martyr, there was nothing she could say that she wouldn’t hate herself for.

***

Arthur was sat in the room Merlin was sharing, large hand clasped over Merlin’s. He worried that when he woke up, he’d panic at the contact, he’d want anyone in the world that wasn’t Arthur.

But Arthur hadn’t been able to get a hold of Lance, the only other person he knew that cared about Merlin. And he hadn’t wanted to go, either, not when the A and E doctor’s looked so anxious over the state of Merlin on his arrival. Not when he’d heard Merlin babbling about death with such resignation.

But Arthur had no excuse for the occasional press of lips against Merlin’s knuckles, other than it felt right.

For the day Merlin had been sweeping in and out of his comatose state, Arthur had calmed himself down enough to make a plan. The Doctor’s had suggested Merlin would need a lot of emotional support, and Arthur had every intention of providing it.

But first, he needed to sit Merlin the hell down and ask what was going on. Because no sane human being could sit out in the cold all night just do to it. Arthur had studied human biology to prepare for his degree. He understood people became confused when they were too cold, but even still- it didn’t all fit.

There was something really, really worrying about the fact Merlin was willing to root himself to a spot and freeze to death. There was something that made Arthur’s stomach drop and heart race, something ridiculously suspicious that made all his natural instincts flare up.

Arthur saw some of the nurses outside, shooting quick glares at Merlin and then clucking at each other, covering their mouths and telling each other to ‘ssh!’

He walked up to them, noting both the ladies were over the age of fifty, and decided to turn on the charm.

“Hello.” He smiled, feeling a bit odd for interrupting their gossip. The two women jumped, so involved in their chatter they hadn’t noticed him approaching. “Sorry to interrupt, but-”

“Are you here with Merlin Emrys?” One of the old women, whose nose was pointed and face was coated in wrinkles, clucked.

“Marge! You can’t just *ask* him that!” The shorter, skinnier one tutted. They began to squabble, and it reminded Arthur of Gwen and Morgana.

“Hello?” He interrupted their conversation, head beginning to hurt now he wasn’t focused on Merlin. The women snapped their heads up, and gave him a look a shark would to a bleeding fish. “Right, I was wondering if I could get any details on, Mr Emrys?”

Why the hell had he not known Merlin’s last name?

“Well, we can’t exactly give out information on patients unless it’s to blood relatives or-”

“We’re married!” Arthur spluttered. ‘Idiot’ he thought to himself, I should have said brother. Or cousin, married was a stupid thing to say.

But then the women’s eyes bulged out of their heads, and ‘Marge’ clapped her hands in glee and Arthur decided baiting that cat was probably a good idea.

“Oh, then surely you *must* know about his father then, mustn’t you dear?”

“Marge! Stop it, you can’t just spill information like that out!” The smaller woman squeaked. She slapped ‘Marge’s’ arm gently, and Arthur decided there was definitely an in for information.

“Oh please Gladys, it’ll be all over the town soon enough! That… man… had evidence scattered around him, awfully suspicious!”

“Sorry, what evidence?” Arthur jumped in, but neither of the women noticed, continuing their argument.

Arthur groaned, unable to make out any clear points in the chirping of the two women.

He walked off, deciding to go grab a drink so he could sit and wait with Merlin longer. He remembered Merlin liked the smell of hot chocolates, and decided to get it to keep by Merlin’s bed.

***

Merlin felt heavy, weighted down by lead, pulled along a bay, thoughts crashing against a shore. Shivers, dull waves, feeling in tides. Always cold, always lonely. He felt his bones begin to crumble, skin begin to peel. The end, cold and lonely, and for no good reason.

He was really dying for a lack of a reason; he had lack of reason to keep going.

And then it was a bit warmer, and he wasn’t sure why. Something was dragging him, and he wasn’t driftwood caught on waves anymore but something else entirely. Someone else was taking him, dragging him away, and he didn’t have it in him to fight.

They looked like Arthur, oddly. But that was too good, too happy, too golden.

Then the person spoke like Arthur, too loud and lively and noisy, eager to insult and quick to keep Merlin up. That dimmed it down, made it realer again. Merlin could hold on to that.

And it was getting warmer, clearer, and really Merlin started to miss the numbness, because he lost each part of what he didn’t like to an abyss.

***

Merlin eventually woke up with the feeling he had already been awake a few times before. His mouth was fuzzy, head thrumming, and he felt as though he’d been drinking. It wasn’t uncommon for him not to fully recollect his night before, but he was almost positive he couldn’t-t have had time to-

Something squeezed his hand, and he almost jumped out of his skin. Merlin looked down, face flushing red and heart beating faster when he saw Arthur hunched over the bed, hand squeezing Merlin’s in his sleep.

Merlin did his best to compress the smile curling at the left side of his face.

The walls were white, so were the sheets, and the place smelt of chemicals. A hospital. Merlin had been spending an increasing amount of time in them, but Merlin was wondering what he’d done this time to land him here.

-Sat in the fucking cold all night, welcomed the chilled air in like a love.

He was warmer now. It was dark outside again, but Merlin had no idea how long he’d let past.

He was so tired, though, despite the fact he had probably spent hours asleep. Tired enough to let himself drop off to sleep again, feeling weirdly at peace, not even thinking to let himself freak out over the contact with Arthur though.

It would happen, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://jeanshard.tumblr.com/ I will be keeping in touch through this tumblr!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry it's been so long! It's all been a mess, and I lost all inspiration and I'm sorry. I'll try harder x

The car ride was silent. It made Arthur think of night time, when he was younger, and he’d creep around the house trying to be silent, terrified of waking anyone up. The darkness of the house would frighten him, but it was the quiet of the house that kept him a whisper. He was always too afraid to pierce the peacefulness of the house with his own sounds.

Every now and then, he couldn’t help but sneak quick glances to the sleeping figure beside himself. He wanted to wake Merlin, at first, wanted to tap his arm and shake him from his dreams- bring him back to the world Arthur was in. But the Doctor had made it bluntly, painfully clear that Merlin was to rest as much as possible. As if he hadn’t been resting constantly in the hospital, still and rigid like someone gone.

Arthur put his eyes back on the road.

They had made a plan, the two of them. Well, Arthur had mostly made the plan and Merlin had squabbled before rolling his eyes and grunting. But Arthur wasn’t going to let Merlin curl himself up and waste away. Merlin was going to keep living if it killed him, if Arthur got a say.

They arrived at Arthur’s flat, after what felt like a few hours.

Arthur was surprised at how easy it was for him to pluck up Merlin, cradle him like a bride or a wounded animal, and carry him up the stairs. 

He dropped Merlin into Arthur’s own bed, wrapped him in the duvet and swept tendrils of hair from his forehead. 

He knew then, as the feeling fell with a gentle thud, he would protect Merlin. He knew that those weeks of a winding, gentle friendship were the entrance to a tsunami, the patter before the storm. He knew that clouds had spattered the sky before a rainfall, and he knew he was ready for the flood to pour.

He didn’t have another friend like Merlin, didn’t have a confidante and an ally and a competitor all in one. He didn’t think anyone did.

He loved him, a platonic love that wound him tight without him noticing. That much was crystal clear, not a question and not a flicker. Bone dry.

And maybe the other kinds of love didn’t play themselves out so easily. Maybe Arthur would love Merlin like a brother, a soul mate, a friend or something else, and maybe he wouldn’t. 

It didn’t matter, not yet. Arthur needed to make Merlin ok first, to make sure Merlin knew he was loved and could be loved.

Even if he didn’t know the specific love it was.

***

They argue within seconds of getting in the house. Arthur wants Merlin to go to bed and Merlin wants to throw himself and Arthur off a bridge.

A few days later, it’s about spilled beer that Merlin shouldn’t be drinking.

Then whether Merlin would go to therapy.

Whether he’d pay rent.

Or get a job.

Or start a life.

But the arguments trickled away, they’d yell until their throats were scorched and until they couldn’t stand the sight of each other. But before Merlin would have the chance to slam his way through the door and run away, Arthur would stop him and sit him down. Or before Arthur burrowed himself into his bed and made angry thoughts settle in his head, Merlin would slink round him and pout. And they’d talk, just that. And it got a little better and a little easier.

***

Merlin pattered round the house, flannel pyjamas worn like a second skin. His feet curled on the carpet as he made his way to the kitchen.

He was humming, under his breath, some lullaby or tune that Arthur must have sung to him. It wasn’t like Merlin had any from his own childhood to mumble. It didn’t matter, weirdly. From the way Arthur told some stories Merlin felt like he’d lived them himself.

Merlin started fiddling about with the coffee maker. For a while, he considered a grown up drink of coffee, instead of his usual creation of hot chocolate and a mountain of whipped cream. Arthur liked to tease him, call him childish when he’d come home to find piles of mugs everywhere.

“You’re the one who buys it.” Merlin had countered, and Arthur had rolled his eyes and laughed at him. The good kind, the laughter that spilled from a person’s soul.

Absentmindedly, Merlin started cleaning the dishes and sorting them out as his chocolate became hot. As he was living in Arthur’s flat so painfully close to rent free, acting as a maid service seemed fair enough.

The doorbell rang, pulling Merlin from his peacefulness.

For a second, he thought of Lancelot. The ghost of a friend who had slipped off from everything and everyone. Merlin missed him. Their friendship had been crucial, vital, and Merlin wished he could have done more for it. But he was taking that regret now, pushing those mistakes he made to make something better, stronger with Arthur. It had been months, a year almost, and Merlin thought that maybe Lancelot would be proud of him for that.

But then again, Merlin was proud of himself, so maybe it didn’t matter.

He dragged himself to the door, and he couldn’t help himself wondering if it was Lance.

He opened the door, chest tight with hope. When he saw the face behind it, his chest went tight with shame he shouldn’t feel.

Morgana’s face mirrored what his own must look like, anger and surprise and shame and discomfort.

“You live here?” She spat. He flinched, fingers curled into the wooden frame of the door and he was tempted to shrink away.

It would never matter how many therapy sessions Merlin went to, how many patronising voices told him ‘it was ok’ or how many times someone he loved loved him too, there would always be a little bit of shame. There would always be a child who was dirty nestled inside him.

“Yes.” He whispered. He tried to keep his voice steady. He doubted it worked. And that worried him, because before he kept that weakness etched into his bones, worming under his skin, far away from prying eyes like Morgana’s. He hated this side of therapy, hated being so fucking open- not just in front of the strangers he shared the class with but now with any other human. It was weird.

She looked him up and down for a few moments, foot tapping on the floor outside the flat as she glared at her own ankles.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Her voice made the sound of scissors on paper.

“Arthur will be away for a while.”

“Fine.” She groaned. “So I won’t see Arthur.”

“I… Why do you want to talk to me?” Merlin convinced himself that his voice wasn’t a whisper. Wasn’t meek. He was meek, he was rotten-

“I’m not doing this in the hallway.” She snapped, barging past him into the flat. Merlin started scrunching up his hands, pressing his nails to his palms and breathing harshly.

He followed Morgana, suddenly feeling jittery and self-conscious where he wasn’t before.

“Was it true?”

“Was what true?”

“The little… letter, you left. Because I think you were trying to make me feel guilty before you took off.” She said. Merlin cringed. He hadn’t planned to come *back.* He wasn’t planning to deal with the roof caving in or the sky crashing down, he was meant to be long gone somewhere else. That’s what he did, run away. Time after time after time.

“Y… Yeah.” His voice was nothing now, nothing like he was. He wished he hadn’t told her. That was his, that memory wasn’t something for her to poke and pry and tease at.

It was quiet for a few seconds, painful. Merlin was painfully insecure in the knowledge that he was dressed in ratty pyjamas with his hair a state whilst Morgana was stood preened and proper looking at him with… something. Not anything kind or safe, not help or sympathy. Maybe he didn’t need it from her.

“Why did you… Why did you have to leave that?”

“Why did you have to fucking crucify me for all that time?” Merlin hissed. He was so fucking tired all of a sudden. He had work in a few hours and suddenly he couldn’t even imagine looking out a window without crying. “Why did you have to keep looking at me? Whispering about me? Commenting on every little move and word and rumour I was near?” He stormed towards her, then, unable to really stop himself. “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?”

“Get away!” She shoved him. “You’re insane. I don’t know what Arthur’s doing keeping you-”

“Just get out.” He ordered. To his infinite surprise, she did.

***

It isn’t until later that Arthur finds him, curled up in a ball, and he feels Arthur’s arms around him that Merlin can stop shaking.

***

Obviously, Arthur knows recovery doesn’t happen overnight.

“Arthur, let me out of the house.” Merlin said, quietly, voice a viper in the grass.

Arthur is very well aware at how serious addiction is. Arthur wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Merlin wasn’t an alcoholic, wasn’t on drugs, wasn’t still hurting and burning underneath those smiles. And Arthur is sure that one day, he’ll slip up and Merlin could get drunk or high or hurt.

“This is kidnapping.” Merlin continued.

It wouldn’t happen tonight.

Arthur just rolled his eyes, but his heart was hammering in his chest. He and Merlin had reached another tentative truce. Arthur was surprised their relationship hadn’t become strained yet, not toxic yet. It could easily turn acidic tonight, though.

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled. He slammed his hand on the marble counter and didn’t even wince. He continued pacing, like a caged tiger, and Arthur was living the life of Pi. Trapped with the tiger, in total awe of the creature that was Merlin and still terrified he would lash out. “Give me the keys! Let me out!”

“Merlin, no.”

“I’m a fucking grown up!” Merlin was winding himself up. “Let me go out! I can do what I want!”

“Merlin, you can’t go out, you know-”

“I won’t do anything!” The lie sounded strong to Arthur. Merlin probably even believed himself. But he’d been so good and so calm and Merlin couldn’t let him throw that away. “You have to trust me!”

“I do.” Arthur said, quietly. He did trust Merlin, actually. He trusted him to mould wings onto butterflies, trusted him to make Arthur’s pancakes, make Arthur laugh, write post-it notes and leave them over the flat to brighten every day. He trusted Merlin with Arthur’s own happiness and life and friendship and heart. He couldn’t trust Merlin with the most important thing, though. Couldn’t trust Merlin with himself.

“Clearly you fucking don’t!”

“You’ll go out and get drunk or something-”

“I can do that if I want!” Merlin yelped. He stalked closer to Arthur. “It’s my life to do that to, Arthur. I just need a little bit of… freedom. Some fun, yeah? We’ll go out and have a laugh together, won’t we? We never get to do that, mate.”

Arthur could recognise this, he knew Merlin was trying to wheedle him, play him. But then Merlin’s hands started playing round the arms of Arthur’s chair, and the blond stilled. Merlin pouted his lips, tilted his head and licked his mouth, whilst staring down. Arthur squirmed, the image reminded him of day dreams and fantasies and so much more. The moment made Arthur want to jump up and clamp his lips on Merlin’s, drag the smaller man down and map the lines of his body, made him want-

“No, Merlin.” Arthur shot up from the chair, pushing Merlin back, suddenly angry and disgusted at himself. Merlin was sick, an addict, and Arthur was letting that play into his hands. Arthur was letting his stupid little daydreams of things he couldn’t have endanger Merlin, risk Merlin, and Arthur hated himself right there and then. “Don’t.”

He even hated Merlin, a tiny bit for a tiny second too. Because Arthur knew that he couldn’t retreat to ideas of picnics and holding hands, not now Merlin had twisted what Arthur wanted to make it a goal. He was using what Arthur wanted, the parts Arthur loved.

Merlin let out a small gasp, eyes blinking and hands shaking. He looked shocked, disgusted, hurt, and he fled off to his room.

Arthur wanted an intimacy, and he was almost letting himself be used he was so desperate. And just then, Arthur hated himself enough that his skin rippled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope it was ok! Thinking of rounding the story off soon 
> 
> Thank all you lovely people for the kindness and support


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